THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


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ComeDlc  Ibumainc 


CASTLE   RACKRENT 

AND 

THE   ABSENTEE 

BY 

MARIA  EDGEWORTH 


^be  ]£ngll9b 
ComcMc  Ibumaiuc 

Masterpieces  of  the  great 
English  novehsts  in  which 
are  portrayed  the  varying 
aspects  of  EngHshhfefrom 
the  time  of  Addison  to  the 
present  day :  a  series  anal- 
ogous to  that  in  which 
Balzac  depicted  the  man- 
ners and  morals  of  his 
French  contemporaries. 


'\'l 


'Love  to  sit  on  my  knee  whilst  I  told  him  stories.' 


Zbe  Bngltsb  ComcDic  Ibumalne 


CASTLE    RACKRENT 


BY 


MARIA  EDGEWORTH 


?>« 


et^ 


NEW  YORK 

^bc  Centiui^  Co, 

1904 


Copyright,  1903,  by 
The  Century  Co. 


Published,  October,  igoj 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE 

Maria  Edgeworth,  famous  as  a  delineator  of  Irish  character, 
was  of  English  birth,  though  of  Irish  descent,  being  born  at  Black 
Bourton  in  Oxfordshire  in  1 767.  Her  early  education  also  was  Eng- 
lish ;  but  in  her  sixteenth  year  her  father  returned  to  Ireland  to 
reside,  taking  her  with  him,  and  thereafter  her  home  was  at 
Edgeworthtown  in  County  Longford,  where  she  died  in  1849. 
She  is  perhaps  even  better  known  as  a  writer  of  stories  for  children 
—stories  which  have  retained  in  large  measure  their  popularity — 
than  as  a  novelist. 

Her  most  notable  tale  was  also  the  first  published — "  Castle 
Rackrent,"  issued  in  1800— a  story  based  upon  facts,  and  depicting 
the  manners  and  methods  of  the  Irish  squire  of  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  It  at  once  became  famous  and  has  be- 
come established  among  the  masterpieces  of  fiction.  It  abounds 
in  wit,  graphic  narration,  and  keen  insight  into  the  Irish  national 
character.  "  It  is  a  page  torn  from  the  national  history  of  Ireland, 
inimitable,  perennially  delightful,  equally  humorous  and  pathetic, 
holding  up  with  shrewd  wit  and  keen  perception  "  both  the  follies 
and  the  virtues  which  have  made  that  history  what  it  has  been. 
Among  her  later  works,  the  most  important  are  the  "  Tales  from 
Fashionable  Life,"  among  which  is  "The  Absentee,"  published  in 
181 2.  Each  of  these  tales — which  have  been  regarded  as  the  ear- 
liest examples  of  "  the  novel  with  a  purpose  " — was  written  to  en- 
force a  moral,  but  they  are  not  the  less  charming  for  their  didac- 
ticism. "  The  Absentee,"  in  particular,  is  a  masterpiece  worthy 
to  be  placed  beside  "  Castle  Rackrent." 


Or^Orir-*"*  A 


PREFACE 

The  prevailing  taste  of  the  public  for  anecdote  has  been 
censured  and  ridiculed  by  critics  who  aspire  to  the  charac- 
ter of  superior  wisdom ;  but  if  we  consider  it  in  a  proper 
point  of  view,  this  taste  is  an  incontestable  proof  of  the 
good  sense  and  profoundly  philosophic  temper  of  the 
present  times.  Of  the  numbers  who  study,  or  at  least 
who  read  history,  how  few  derive  any  advantage  from  their 
labours!  The  heroes  of  history  are  so  decked  out  by 
the  fine  fancy  of  the  professed  historian ;  they  talk  in  such 
measured  prose,  and  act  from  such  sublime  or  such  dia- 
bolical motives,  that  few  have  sufificient  taste,  wickedness, 
or  heroism,  to  sympathise  in  their  fate.  Besides,  there  is 
much  uncertainty  even  in  the  best  authenticated  ancient  or 
modern  histories ;  and  that  love  of  truth,  which  in  some 
minds  is  innate  and  immutable,  necessarily  leads  to  a  love 
of  secret  memoirs  and  private  anecdotes.  We  cannot  judge 
either  of  the  feelings  or  of  the  characters  of  men  with  per- 
fect accuracy,  from  their  actions  or  their  appearance  in 
public;  it  is  from  their  careless  conversations,  their  half- 
finished  sentences,  that  we  may  hope  with  the  greatest 
probability  of  success  to  discover  their  real  characters. 
The  life  of  a  great  or  of  a  little  man  written  by  himself, 
the  familiar  letters,  the  diary  of  any  individual  published 
by  his  friends  or  by  his  enemies,  after  his  decease,  are 
esteemed  important  literary  curiosities.  We  are  surely 
justified,  in  this  eager  desire,  to  collect  the  most  minute 
facts  relative  to  the  domestic  lives,  not  only  of  the  great 
and  good,  but  even  of  the  worthless  and  insignificant,  since 
it  is  only  by  a  comparison  of  their  actual  happiness  or 
misery  in  the  privacy  of  domestic  life  that  we  can  form  a 

vii 


PREFACE 

just  estimate  of  the  real  reward  of  virtue,  or  the  real  pun- 
ishment of  vice.  That  the  great  are  not  as  happy  as  they 
seem,  that  the  external  circumstances  of  fortune  and  rank 
do  not  constitute  felicity,  is  asserted  by  every  moralist : 
the  historian  can  seldom,  consistently  with  his  dignity, 
pause  to  illustrate  this  truth;  it  is  therefore  to  the  bio- 
grapher we  must  have  recourse.  After  we  have  beheld 
splendid  characters  playing  their  parts  on  the  great  theatre 
of  the  world,  with  all  the  advantages  of  stage  effect  and 
decoration,  we  anxiously  beg  to  be  admitted  behind  the 
scenes,  that  we  may  take  a  nearer  view  of  the  actors  and 
actresses. 

Some  may  perhaps  imagine  that  the  value  of  biography 
depends  upon  the  judgment  and  taste  of  the  biographer; 
but  on  the  contrary  it  may  be  maintained,  that  the  merits 
of  a  biographer  are  inversely  as  the  extent  of  his  intellectual 
powers  and  of  his  literary  talents.  A  plain  unvarnished 
tale  is  preferable  to  the  most  highly  ornamented  narrative. 
Where  we  see  that  a  man  has  the  power,  we  may  naturally 
suspect  that  he  has  the  will  to  deceive  us ;  and  those  who 
are  used  to  literary  manufacture  know  how  much  is  often 
sacrificed  to  the  rounding  of  a  period,  or  the  pointing  of 
an  antithesis. 

That  the  ignorant  may  have  their  prejudices  as  well  as 
the  learned  cannot  be  disputed ;  but  we  see  and  despise 
vulgar  errors :  we  never  bow  to  the  authority  of  him  who 
has  no  great  name  to  sanction  his  absurdities.  The  par- 
tiality which  blinds  a  biographer  to  the  defects  of  his  hero, 
in  proportion  as  it  is  gross,  ceases  to  be  dangerous ;  but  if 
it  be  concealed  by  the  appearance  of  candour,  which  men 
of  great  abilities  best  know  how  to  assume,  it  endangers 
our  judgment  sometimes,  and  sometimes  our  morals.  If 
her  Grace  the  Duchess  of  Newcastle,  instead  of  penning 
her  lord's  elaborate  eulogium,  had  undertaken  to  write  the 
life  of  Savage,  we  should  not  have  been  in  any  danger  of 
mistaking  an  idle,  ungrateful  libertine  for  a  man  of  genius 

viii 


PREFACE 

and  virtue.  The  talents  of  a  biographer  are  often  fatal  to 
his  reader.  For  these  reasons  the  public  often  judiciously 
countenance  those  who,  without  sagacity  to  discriminate 
character,  without  elegance  of  style  to  relieve  the  tedious- 
ness  of  narrative,  without  enlargement  of  mind  to  draw 
any  conclusions  from  the  facts  they  relate,  simply  pour 
forth  anecdotes,  and  retail  conversations,  with  all  the 
minute  prolixity  of  a  gossip  in  a  country  town. 

The  author  of  the  following  Memoirs  has  upon  these 
grounds  fair  claims  to  the  public  favour  and  attention ;  he 
was  an  illiterate  old  steward,  whose  partiality  to  the  fa7nily, 
in  which  he  was  bred  and  born,  must  be  obvious  to  the 
reader.  He  tells  the  history  of  the  Rackrent  family  in  his 
vernacular  idiom,  and  in  the  full  confidence  that  Sir  Patrick, 
Sir  Murtagh,  Sir  Kit,  and  Sir  Condy  Rackrent's  affairs  will 
be  as  interesting  to  all  the  world  as  they  were  to  himself. 
Those  who  were  acquainted  with  the  manners  of  a  certain 
class  of  the  gentry  of  Ireland  some  years  ago,  will  want  no 
evidence  of  the  truth  of  honest  Thady's  narrative ;  to  those 
who  are  totally  unacquainted  with  Ireland,  the  following 
Memoirs  will  perhaps  be  scarcely  intelligible,  or  probably 
they  may  appear  perfectly  incredible.  For  the  information 
of  the  ig7ioraiit  English  reader,  a  few  notes  have  been  sub- 
joined by  the  editor,  and  he  had  it  once  in  contemplation 
to  translate  the  language  of  Thady  into  plain  English ;  but 
Thady's  idiom  is  incapable  of  translation,  and,  besides,  the 
authenticity  of  his  story  would  have  been  more  exposed 
to  doubt  if  it  were  not  told  in  his  own  characteristic  man- 
ner. Several  years  ago  he  related  to  the  editor  the  history 
of  the  Rackrent  family,  and  it  was  with  some  difificulty  that 
he  was  persuaded  to  have  it  committed  to  writing;  how- 
ever, his  feelings  for  ''  tJie  honour  of  the  family,''  as  he  ex- 
pressed himself,  prevailed  over  his  habitual  laziness,  and  he 
at  length  completed  the  narrative  which  is  now  laid  before 
the  public. 

The  editor  hopes  his  readers  will  observe  that  these  are 

ix 


PREFACE 

"tales  of  other  times  "  ;  that  the  manners  depicted  in  the 
following  pages  are  not  those  of  the  present  age ;  the  race 
of  the  Rackrents  has  long  since  been  extinct  in  Ireland ; 
and  the  drunken  Sir  Patrick,  the  litigious  Sir  Murtagh,  the 
fighting  Sir  Kit,  and  the  slovenly  Sir  Condy,  are  characters 
which  could  no  more  be  met  with  at  present  in  Ireland, 
than  Squire  Western  or  Parson  Trulliber  in  England. 
There  is  a  time  when  individuals  can  bear  to  be  rallied  for 
their  past  follies  and  absurdities,  after  they  have  acquired 
new  habits  and  a  new  consciousness.  Nations,  as  well  as 
individuals,  gradually  lose  attachment  to  their  identity, 
and  the  present  generation  is  amused,  rather  than  offended, 
by  the  ridicule  that  is  thrown  upon  its  ancestors. 

Probably  we  shall  soon  have  it  in  our  power,  in  a  hund- 
red instances,  to  verify  the  truth  of  these  observations. 

When  Ireland  loses  her  identity  by  an  union  with  Great 
Britain,  she  will  look  back,  with  a  smile  of  good-humoured 
complacency,  on  the  Sir  Kits  and  Sir  Condys  of  her  former 
existence. 

1800. 


CASTLE   RACKRENT 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 


Monday  Morning."^ 

HAVING,  out  of  friendship  for  the  family,  upon  whose 
estate,  praised  be  Heaven !  I  and  mine  have  lived 
rent-free  time  out  of  mind,  voluntarily  undertaken 
to  publish  the  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  Rackrent  Family,  I 
think  it  my  duty  to  say  a  few  words,  in  the  first  place,  con- 
cerning myself.  My  real  name  is  Thady  Quirk,  though  in 
the  family  I  have  always  been  known  by  no  other  than 
"Honest  Thady,"  afterward,  in  the  time  of  Sir  Murtagh, 
deceased,  I  remember  to  hear  them  calling  me  "Old 
Thady,"  and  now  I've  come  to  "Poor  Thady"  ;  for  I  wear 
a  long  greatcoat^  winter  and  summer,  which  is  very  handy, 

'  See  Glossary. 

'  The  cloak,  or  mantle,  as  described  by  Thady,  is  of  high  antiquity. 
Spenser,  in  his  VicM  of  the  State  of  Ireland,  proves  that  it  is  not,  as  some 
have  imagined,  peculiarly  derived  from  the  Scythians,  but  that  "  most  na- 
tions of  the  world  anciently  used  the  mantle  ;  for  the  Jews  used  it,  as  you 
may  read  of  Elias's  mantle,  etc.  ;  the  Chaldees  also  used  it,  as  you  may  read 
in  Diodorus  ;  the  Egyptians  likewise  used  it,  as  you  may  read  in  Herodotus, 
and  may  be  gathered  by  the  description  of  Berenice  in  the  Greek  Commentary 
upon  Callimachus  ;  the  Greeks  also  used  it  anciently,  as  appeared  by  Venus's 
mantle  lined  with  stars,*  though  afterward  they  changed  the  form  thereof  into 
their  cloaks,  called  Pallai,  as  some  of  the  Irish  also  use  ;  and  the  ancient 
Latins  and  Romans  used  it,  as  you  may  read  in  Virgil,  who  was  a  great  an- 
tiquary, that  Evander,  when  ^neas  came  to  him  at  his  feast,  did  entertain 
and  feast  him  sitting  on  the  ground,  and  lying  on  mantles :  insomuch  that  he 
useth  the  very  word  mantile  for  a  mantle — 

'  Humi  mantilia  sternunt  : ' 
so  that  it  seemeth  that  the  mantle  was  a  general  habit  to  most  nations,  and 
not  proper  to  the  Scythians  only." 

Spenser  knew  the  convenience  of  the  said  mantle,  as  housing,  bedding, 
and  clothing  : 

"  Iren.  Because  the  commodity  doth  not  countervail  the  discommodity  ; 
for  the  inconveniences  which  thereby  do  arise  are  much  more  many  ;  for  it  is 
a  fit  house  for  an  outlaw,  a  meet  bed  for  a  rebel,  and  an  apt  cloak  for  a  thief. 
First,  the  outlaw  being,  for  his  many  crimes  and  villanies,  banished  from  the 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

as  I  never  put  my  arms  into  the  sleeves ;  they  are  as  good 
as  new,  though  come  Holantide  next  I've  had  it  these 
seven  years :  it  holds  on  by  a  single  button  round  my 
neck,  cloak  fashion.  To  look  at  me,  you  would  hardly 
think  "Poor  Thady"  was  the  father  of  Attorney  Quirk;  he 
is  a  high  gentleman,  and  never  minds  what  poor  Thady 
says,  and  having  better  than  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  landed 
estate,  looks  down  upon  honest  Thady ;  but  I  wash  my 
hands  of  his  doings,  and  as  I  have  lived  so  will  I  die,  true 
and  loyal  to  the  family.  The  family  of  the  Rackrents  is,  I 
am  proud  to  say,  one  of  the  most  ancient  in  the  kingdom. 
Everybody  knows  this  is  not  the  old  family  name,  which 
was  O'Shaughlin,  related  to  the  kings  of  Ireland — but  that 
was  before  my  time.  My  grandfather  was  driver  to  the 
great  Sir  Patrick  O'Shaughlin,  and  I  heard  him,  when  I 
was  a  boy,  telling  how  the  Castle  Rackrent  estate  came  to 
Sir  Patrick ;  Sir  Tallyhoo  Rackrent  was  cousin-german  to 
him,  and  had  a  fine  estate  of  his  own,  only  never  a  gate 
upon  it,  it  being  his  maxim  that  a  car  was  the  best  gate. 
Poor  gentleman !  he  lost  a  fine  hunter  and  his  life,  at  last, 
by  it,  all  in  one  day's  hunt.  But  I  ought  to  bless  that 
day,  for  the  estate  came  straight  into  tJie  family,  upon  one 
condition,  which  Sir  Patrick  O'Shaughlin  at  the  time  took 
sadly  to  heart,  they  say,  but  thought  better  of  it  afterwards, 
seeing  how  large  a  stake  depended  upon  it :  that  he  should, 
by  Act  of  Parliament,  take  and  bear  the  surname  and  arms 
of  Rackrent. 

Now  it  was  that  the  world  was  to  see  what  was  z«  Sir 
Patrick.  On  coming  into  the  estate  he  gave  the  finest 
entertainment  ever  was  heard  of  in  the  country;  not  a  man 

towns  and  houses  of  honest  men,  and  wandering  in  waste  places,  far  from 
danger  of  law,  maketh  his  mantle  his  house,  and  under  it  covereth  himself 
from  the  wrath  of  Heaven,  from  the  offence  of  the  earth,  and  from  the  sight 
of  men.  When  it  raineth,  it  is  his  pent-house  ;  when  it  bloweth,  it  is  his 
tent  ;  when  it  freezeth,  it  is  his  tabernacle.  In  summer  he  can  wear  it  loose  ; 
in  winter  he  can  wrap  it  close  ;  at  all  times  he  can  use  it  ;  never  heavy,  never 
cumbersome.  Likewise  for  a  rebel  it  is  as  serviceable  ;  for  in  this  war  that 
he  maketh  (if  at  least  it  deserves  the  name  of  war),  when  he  still  flieth  from 
his  foe,  and  lurketh  in  the  thick  woods  (this  should  be  black  bogs)  and  straight 
passages,  waiting  for  advantages,  it  is  his  bed,  yea,  and  almost  his  household 
stuff." 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

could  stand  after  supper  but  Sir  Patrick  himself,  who  could 
sit  out  the  best  man  in  Ireland,  let  alone  the  three  king- 
doms itself.'  He  had  his  house,  from  one  year's  end  to 
another,  as  full  of  company  as  ever  it  could  hold,  and 
fuller;  for  rather  than  be  left  out  of  the  parties  at  Castle 
Rackrent,  many  gentlemen,  and  those  men  of  the  first  con- 
sequence and  landed  estates  in  the  country — such  as  the 
O'Neills  of  Ballynagrotty,  and  the  Moneygawls  of  Mount 
Juliet's  Town,  and  O'Shannons  of  New  Town  Tullyhog — 
made  it  their  choice,  often  and  often,  when  there  was  no 
room  to  be  had  for  love  nor  money,  in  long  winter  nights, 
to  sleep  in  the  chicken-house,  which  Sir  Patrick  had  fitted 
up  for  the  purpose  of  accommodating  his  friends  and  the 
public  in  general,  who  honoured  him  with  their  company 
unexpectedly  at  Castle  Rackrent ;  and  this  went  on  I  can't 
tell  you  how  long.  The  whole  country  rang  with  his  praises ! 
— Long  life  to  him !  I'm  sure  I  love  to  look  upon  his  pic- 
ture, now  opposite  to  me ;  though  I  never  saw  him,  he  must 
have  been  a  portly  gentleman — his  neck  something  short, 
and  remarkable  for  the  largest  pimple  on  his  nose,  which, 
by  his  particular  desire,  is  still  extant  in  his  picture,  said  to 
be  a  striking  likeness,  though  taken  when  young.  He  is 
said  also  to  be  the  inventor  of  raspberry  whisky,  which  is 
very  likely,  as  nobody  has  ever  appeared  to  dispute  it  with 
him,  and  as  there  still  exists  a  broken  punch-bowl  at  Castle 
Rackrent,  in  the  garret,  with  an  inscription  to  that  effect — 
a  great  curiosity.  A  few  days  before  his  death  he  was  very 
merry;  it  being  his  honour's  birthday,  he  called  my  grand- 
father in — God  bless  him  ! — to  drink  the  company's  health, 
and  filled  a  bumper  himself,  but  could  not  carry  it  to  his 
head,  on  account  of  the  great  shake  in  his  hand ;  on  this  he 
cast  his  joke,  saying,  "What  would  my  poor  father  say  to 
me  if  he  was  to  pop  out  of  the  grave,  and  see  me  now?  I 
remember  when  I  was  a  little  boy,  the  first  bumper  of 
claret  he  gave  me  after  dinner,  how  he  praised  me  for 
carrying  it  so  steady  to  my  mouth.  Here  's  my  thanks  to 
him — a  bumper  toast."  Then  he  fell  to  singing  the  favour- 
ite song  he  learned  from  his  father — for  the  last  time,  poor 

'  See  Glossary. 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

gentleman — he  sung  it  that  night  as  loud  and  as  hearty  as 
ever,  with  a  chorus: 

He  that  goes  to  bed,  and  goes  to  bed  sober, 

Falls   as   the  leaves  do,    falls  as  the  leaves  do,   and  dies  in 

October; 
But  he  that  goes  to  bed,  and  goes  to  bed  mellow, 
Lives  as  he  ought  to  do,  lives  as  he  ought  to  do,  and  dies  an 

honest  fellow. 

Sir  Patrick  died  that  night :  just  as  the  company  rose  to 
drink  his  health  with  three  cheers,  he  fell  down  in  a  sort  of 
fit,  and  was  carried  off;  they  sat  it  out,  and  were  surprised, 
on  inquiry  in  the  morning,  to  find  that  it  was  all  over  with 
poor  Sir  Patrick.  Never  did  any  gentleman  live  and  die 
more  beloved  in  the  country  by  rich  and  poor.  His  funeral 
was  such  a  one  as  was  never  known  before  or  since  in  the 
county!  All  the  gentlemen  in  the  three  counties  were  at 
it ;  far  and  near,  how  they  flocked !  my  great-grandfather 
said,  that  to  see  all  the  women,  even  in  their  red  cloaks, 
you  would  have  taken  them  for  the  army  drawn  out. 
Then  such  a  fine  whillaluh ! '  you  might  have  heard  it  to 
the  farthest  end  of  the  county,  and  happy  the  man  who 
could  get  but  a  sight  of  the  hearse!  But  who'd  have 
thought  it?  Just  as  all  was  going  on  right,  through  his 
own  town  they  were  passing,  when  the  body  was  seized  for 
debt — a  rescue  was  apprehended  from  the  mob ;  but  the 
heir,  who  attended  the  funeral,  was  against  that,  for  fear  of 
consequences,  seeing  that  those  villains  who  came  to  serve 
acted  under  the  disguise  of  the  law:  so,  to  be  sure,  the 
law  must  take  its  course,  and  little  gain  had  the  creditors 
for  their  pains.  First  and  foremost,  they  had  the  curses  of 
the  country :  and  Sir  Murtagh  Rackrent,  the  new  heir,  in 
the  next  place,  on  account  of  this  affront  to  the  body,  re- 
fused to  pay  a  shilling  of  the  debts,  in  which  he  was  coun- 
tenanced by  all  the  best  gentlemen  of  property,  and  others 
of  his  acquaintance;  Sir  Murtagh  alleging  in  all  companies 
that  he  all  along  meant  to  pay  his  father's  debts  of  honour, 
but  the  moment  the  law  was  taken  of  him,  there  was  an  end 

'  See  Glossary. 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

of  honour  to  be  sure.  It  was  whispered  (but  none  but  the 
enemies  of  the  family  believe  it)  that  this  was  all  a  sham 
seizure  to  get  quit  of  the  debts  which  he  had  bound  him- 
self to  pay  in  honour. 

It's  a  long  time  ago,  there's  no  saying  how  it  was,  but 
this  for  certain,  the  new  man  did  not  take  at  all  after  the 
old  gentleman ;  the  cellars  were  never  filled  after  his  death, 
and  no  open  house,  or  anything  as  it  used  to  be;  the  ten- 
ants even  were  sent  away  without  their  whisky.'  I  was 
ashamed  myself,  and  knew  not  what  to  say  for  the  honour 
of  the  family ;  but  I  made  the  best  of  a  bad  case,  and  laid 
it  all  at  my  lady's  door,  for  I  did  not  like  her  anyhow,  nor 
anybody  else;  she  was  of  the  family  of  the  Skinflints,  and 
a  widow ;  it  was  a  strange  match  for  Sir  Murtagh  ;  the  people 
in  the  country  thought  he  demeaned  himself  greatly,"  but 
I  said  nothing:  I  knew  how  it  was.  Sir  Murtagh  was  a 
great  lawyer,  and  looked  to  the  great  Skinflint  estate; 
there,  however,  he  overshot  himself ;  for  though  one  of  the 
co-heiresses,  he  was  never  the  better  for  her,  for  she  out- 
lived him  many's  the  long  day — he  could  not  see  that  to  be 
sure  when  he  married  her.  I  must  say  for  her,  she  made 
him  the  best  of  wives,  being  a  very  notable,  stirring  wo- 
man, and  looking  close  to  everything.  But  I  always  sus- 
pected she  had  Scotch  blood  in  her  veins ;  anything  else 
I  could  have  looked  over  in  her,  from  a  regard  to  the  family. 
She  was  a  strict  observer,  for  self  and  servants,  of  Lent, 
and  all  fast-days,  but  not  holidays.  One  of  the  maids 
having  fainted  three  times  the  last  day  of  Lent,  to  keep 
soul  and  body  together,  we  put  a  morsel  of  roast  beef  into 
her  mouth,  which  came  from  Sir  Murtagh's  dinner,  who 
never  fasted,  not  he;  but  somehow  or  other  it  unfortun- 
ately reached  my  lady's  ears,  and  the  priest  of  the  parish 
had  a  complaint  made  of  it  the  next  day,  and  the  poor  girl 
was  forced,  as  soon  as  she  could  walk,  to  do  penance  for  it, 
before  she  could  get  any  peace  or  absolution,  in  the  house 
or  out  of  it.  However,  my  lady  was  very  charitable  in  her 
own  way.  She  had  a  charity  school  for  poor  children, 
where  they  were  taught  to  read  and  write  gratis,  and  where 

'  See  Glossary.  2  Ibid. 

5 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

they  were  kept  well  to  spinning  gratis  for  my  lady  in  re- 
turn ;  for  she  had  always  heaps  of  duty  yarn  from  the  ten- 
ants, and  got  all  her  household  linen  out  of  the  estate  from 
first  to  last;  for  after  the  spinning,  the  weavers  on  the 
estate  took  it  in  hand  for  nothing,  because  of  the  looms 
my  lady's  interest  could  get  from  the  Linen  Board  to  dis- 
tribute gratis.  Then  there  was  a  bleach-yard  near  us,  and 
the  tenant  dare  refuse  my  lady  nothing,  for  fear  of  a  law- 
suit Sir  Murtagh  kept  hanging  over  him  about  the  water- 
course. With  these  ways  of  managing,  'tis  surprising  how 
cheap  my  lady  got  things  done,  and  how  proud  she  was  of 
it.  Her  table  the  same  way,  kept  for  next  to  nothing; 
duty  fowls,  and  duty  turkeys,  and  duty  geese,'  came  as  fast 
as  we  could  eat  'em,  for  my  lady  kept  a  sharp  look-out, 
and  knew  to  a  tub  of  butter  everything  the  tenants  had,  all 
round.  They  knew  her  way,  and  what  with  fear  of  driving 
for  rent  and  Sir  Murtagh's  lawsuits,  they  were  kept  in  such 
good  order,  they  never  thought  of  coming  near  Castle 
Rackrent  without  a  present  of  something  or  other — no- 
thing too  much  or  too  little  for  my  lady — eggs,  honey,  but- 
ter, meal,  fish,  game,  grouse,  and  herrings,  fresh  or  salt,  all 
went  for  something.  As  for  their  young  pigs,  we  had 
them,  and  the  best  bacon  and  hams  they  could  make  up, 
with  all  young  chickens  in  spring;  but  they  were  a  set  of 
poor  wretches,  and  we  had  nothing  but  misfortunes  with 
them,  always  breaking  and  running  away.  This,  Sir  Mur- 
tagh and  my  lady  said,  was  all  their  former  landlord  Sir 
Patrick's  fault,  who  let  'em  all  get  the  half-year's  rent  into 
arrear;  there  was  something  in  that  to  be  sure.  But  Sir 
Murtagh  was  as  much  the  contrary  way;  for  let  alone 
making  English  tenants "  of  them,  every  soul,  he  was  always 
driving  and  driving,  and  pounding  and  pounding,  and  cant- 
ing' and  canting,  and  replevying  and  replevying,  and  he 
made  a  good  living  of  trespassing  cattle ;  there  was  always 
some  tenant's  pig,  or  horse,  or  cow,  or  calf,  or  goose,  tres- 
passing, which  was  so  great  a  gain  to  Sir  Murtagh,  that  he 
did  not  like  to  hear  me  talk  of  repairing  fences.  Then  his 
heriots  and  duty-work  *  brought  him  in  something,  his  turf 
>  See  Glossary.  ^  Idit/.  a  /did.  *Il>id. 

6 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

was  cut,  his  potatoes  set  and  dug,  his  hay  brought  home, 
and,  in  short,  all  the  work  about  his  house  done  for  no- 
thing; for  in  all  our  leases  there  were  strict  clauses  heavy 
with  penalties,  which  Sir  Murtagh  knew  well  how  to  en- 
force; so  many  days'  duty-work  of  man  and  horse,  from 
every  tenant,  he  was  to  have,  and  had,  every  year;  and 
when  a  man  vexed  him,  why,  the  finest  day  he  could  pitch 
on,  when  the  cratur  was  getting  in  his  own  harvest,  or 
thatching  his  cabin,  Sir  Murtagh  made  it  a  principle  to  call 
upon  him  and  his  horse;  so  he  taught  'em  all,  as  he  said, 
to  know  the  law  of  landlord  and  tenant.  As  for  law,  I  be- 
lieve no  man,  dead  or  alive,  ever  loved  it  so  well  as  Sir  Mur- 
tagh. He  had  once  sixteen  suits  pending  at  a  time,  and  I 
never  saw  him  so  much  himself:  roads,  lanes,  bogs,  wells, 
ponds,  eel-wires,  orchards,  trees,  tithes,  vagrants,  gravel- 
pits,  sandpits,  dunghills,  and  nuisances,  everything  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth  furnished  him  good  matter  for  a  suit. 
He  used  to  boast  that  he  had  a  lawsuit  for  every  letter  in 
the  alphabet.  How  I  used  to  wonder  to  see  Sir  Murtagh 
in  the  midst  of  the  papers  in  his  office!  Why,  he  could 
hardly  turn  about  for  them.  I  made  bold  to  shrug  my 
shoulders  once  in  his  presence,  and  thanked  my  stars  I  was 
not  born  a  gentleman  to  so  much  toil  and  trouble;  but  Sir 
Murtagh  took  me  up  short  with  his  old  proverb,  "Learning 
is  better  than  house  or  land."  Out  of  forty-nine  suits 
which  he  had,  he  never  lost  one  but  seventeen  * ;  the  rest 
he  gained  with  costs,  double  costs,  treble  costs  sometimes ; 
but  even  that  did  not  pay.  He  was  a  very  learned  man  in 
the  law,  and  had  the  character  of  it ;  but  how  it  was  I  can't 
tell,  these  suits  that  he  carried  cost  him  a  power  of  money : 
in  the  end  he  sold  some  hundreds  a  year  of  the  family 
estate ;  but  he  was  a  very  learned  man  in  the  law,  and  I 
know  nothing  of  the  matter,  except  having  a  great  regard 
for  the  family ;  and  I  could  not  help  grieving  when  he  sent 
me  to  post  up  notices  of  the  sale  of  the  fee  simple  of  the 
lands  and  appurtenances  of  Timoleague. 

"I  know,  honest  Thady,"  says  he,  to  comfort  me,  "what 
I'm  about  better  than  you  do;  I'm  only  selling  to  get  the 

'  See  Glossary. 

7 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

ready  money  wanting  to  carry  on  my  suit  with  spirit  with 
the  Nugents  of  CarrickashaughHn." 

He  was  very  sanguine  about  that  suit  with  the  Nugents 
of  CarrickashaughHn.  He  could  have  gained  it,  they  say, 
for  certain,  had  it  pleased  Heaven  to  have  spared  him  to 
us,  and  it  would  have  been  at  the  least  a  plump  two  thou- 
sand a  year  in  his  way ;  but  things  were  ordered  otherwise 
— for  the  best  to  be  sure.  He  dug  up  a  fairy-mount ' 
against  my  advice,  and  had  no  luck  afterwards.  Though 
a  learned  man  in  the  law,  he  was  a  little  too  incredulous  in 
other  matters.  I  warned  him  that  I  heard  the  very  Ban- 
shee ^  that  my  grandfather  heard  under  Sir  Patrick's  window 
a  few  days  before  his  death.  But  Sir  Murtagh  thought 
nothing  of  the  Banshee,  nor  of  his  cough,  with  a  spitting 
of  blood,  brought  on,  I  understand,  by  catching  cold  in 
attending  the  courts,  and  overstraining  his  chest  with  mak- 
ing himself  heard  in  one  of  his  favourite  causes.  He  was 
a  great  speaker  with  a  powerful  voice;  but  his  last  speech 
was  not  in  the  courts  at  all.  He  and  rny  lady,  though  both 
of  the  same  way  of  thinking  in  some  things,  and  though 
she  was  as  good  a  wife  and  great  economist  as  you  could 
see,  and  he  the  best  of  husbands,  as  to  looking  into  his 
affairs,  and  making  money  for  his  family ;  yet  I  don't  know 
how  it  was,  they  had  a  great  deal  of  sparring  and  jarring 
between  them.  My  lady  had  her  privy  purse ;  and  she 
had  her  weed  ashes,'  and  her  sealing  money  *  upon  the  sign- 
ing of  all  the  leases,  with  something  to  buy  gloves  besides ; 

'  These  fairy-mounts  are  called  ant-hills  in  England,  They  are  held  in 
high  reverence  by  the  common  people  in  Ireland.  A  gentleman,  who  in  lay- 
ing out  his  lawn  had  occasion  to  level  one  of  these  hillocks,  could  not  pre- 
vail upon  any  of  his  labourers  to  begin  the  ominous  work.  He  was  obliged 
to  take  a  loy  from  one  of  their  reluctant  hands,  and  began  the  attack  himself. 
The  labourers  agreed  that  the  vengeance  of  the  fairies  would  fall  upon  the 
head  of  the  presumptuous  mortal  who  first  disturbed  them  in  their  retreat.* 

-  The  Banshee  is  a  species  of  aristocratic  fairy,  who,  in  the  shape  of  a 
little  hideous  old  woman,  has  been  known  to  appear,  and  heard  to  sing  in  a 
mournful  supernatural  voice  under  the  windows  of  great  houses,  to  warn  the 
family  that  some  of  them  are  soon  to  die.  In  the  last  century  every  great 
family  in  Ireland  had  a  Banshee,  who  attended  regularly  ;  but  latterly  their 
visits  and  songs  have  been  discontinued.  ^  ggg  Glossary.  ■*  Ibid, 

*  See  Glossary. 

8 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

and,  besides,  again  often  took  money  from  the  tenants,  if 
offered  properly,  to  speak  for  them  to  Sir  Murtagh  about 
abatements  and  renewals.  Now  the  weed  ashes  and  the 
glove  money  he  allowed  her  clear  perquisites ;  though  once 
when  he  saw  her  in  a  new  gown  saved  out  of  the  weed 
ashes,  he  told  her  to  my  face  (for  he  could  say  a  sharp 
thing)  that  she  should  not  put  on  her  weeds  before  her 
husband's  death.  But  in  a  dispute  about  an  abatement 
my  lady  would  have  the  last  word,  and  Sir  Murtagh  grew 
mad ' ;  I  was  within  hearing  of  the  door,  and  now  I  wish  I 
had  made  bold  to  step  in.  He  spoke  so  loud,  the  whole 
kitchen  was  out  on  the  stairs.'  All  on  a  sudden  he  stopped, 
and  my  lady  too.  Something  has  surely  happened,  thought 
I ;  and  so  it  was,  for  Sir  Murtagh  in  his  passion  broke  a 
blood-vessel,  and  all  the  law  in  the  land  could  do  nothing 
in  that  case.  My  lady  sent  for  five  physicians,  but  Sir 
Murtagh  died,  and  was  buried.  She  had  a  fine  jointure 
settled  upon  her,  and  took  herself  away,  to  the  great  joy 
of  the  tenantry.  I  never  said  anything  one  way  or  the 
other  whilst  she  was  part  of  the  family,  but  got  up  to  see 
her  go  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"It's  a  fine  morning,  honest  Thady,"  says  she;  "good- 
bye to  ye."  And  into  the  carriage  she  stepped,  without  a 
word  more,  good  or  bad,  or  even  half-a-crown  ;  but  I  made 
my  bow,  and  stood  to  see  her  safe  out  of  sight  for  the  sake 
of  the  family. 

Then  we  were  all  bustle  in  the  house,  which  made  me 
keep  out  of  the  way,  for  I  walk  slow  and  hate  a  bustle ;  but 
the  house  was  all  hurry-skurry,  preparing  for  my  new  mas- 
ter. Sir  Murtagh,  I  forgot  to  notice,  had  no  childer^  so 
the  Rackrent  estate  went  to  his  younger  brother,  a  young 
dashing  officer,  who  came  amongst  us  before  I  knew  for  the 
life  of  me  whereabouts  I  was,  in  a  gig  or  some  of  them 
things,  with  another  spark  along  with  him,  and  led  horses, 
and  servants,  and  dogs,  and  scarce  a  place  to  put  any 
Christian  of  them  into ;  for  my  late  lady  had  sent  all  the 

'  See  Glossary.  '  Ibid. 

3  Childer :  this  is  the  manner  in  which  many  of  Thady's  rank,  and  others 
in  Ireland,  formerly  pronounced  the  word  children. 


CASTLE  RACKRENT      , 

feather-beds  off  before  her,  and  blankets  and  household 
linen,  down  to  the  very  knife-cloths,  on  the  cars  to  Dub- 
lin, which  were  all  her  own,  lawfully  paid  for  out  of  her 
own  money.  So  the  house  was  quite  bare,  and  my  young 
master,  the  moment  ever  he  set  foot  in  it  out  of  his  gig, 
thought  all  those  things  must  come  of  themselves,  I  be- 
lieve, for  he  never  looked  after  anything  at  all,  but  harum- 
scarum  called  for  everything  as  if  we  were  conjurors,  or  he 
in  a  public-house.  For  my  part,  I  could  not  bestir  myself 
anyhow ;  I  had  been  so  much  used  to  my  late  master  and 
mistress,  all  was  upside  down  with  me,  and  the  new  serv- 
ants in  the  servants'  hall  were  quite  out  of  my  way;  I  had 
nobody  to  talk  to,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  my  pipe  and 
tobacco,  should,  I  verily  believe,  have  broke  my  heart  for 
poor  Sir  Murtagh. 

But  one  morning  my  new  master  caught  a  glimpse  of  me 
as  I  was  looking  at  his  horse's  heels,  in  hopes  of  a  word 
from  him.  "And  is  that  old  Thady?  "  says  he,  as  he  got 
into  his  gig:  I  loved  him  from  that  day  to  this,  his  voice 
was  so  like  the  family ;  and  he  threw  me  a  guinea  out  of 
his  waistcoat-pocket,  as  he  drew  up  the  reins  with  the  other 
hand,  his  horse  rearing  too;  I  thought  I  never  set  my  eyes 
on  a  finer  figure  of  a  man,  quite  another  sort  from  Sir 
Murtagh,  though  withal,  to  me,  a  family  likeness.  A  fine 
life  we  should  have  led,  had  he  stayed  amongst  us,  God 
bless  him !  He  valued  a  guinea  as  little  as  any  man : 
money  to  him  was  no  more  than  dirt,  and  his  gentleman 
and  groom,  and  all  belonging  to  him,  the  same;  but  the 
sporting  season  over,  he  grew  tired  of  the  place,  and  hav- 
ing got  down  a  great  architect  for  the  house,  and  an  im- 
prover for  the  grounds,  and  seen  their  plans  and  elevations, 
he  fixed  a  day  for  settling  with  the  tenants,  but  went  off  in 
a  whirlwind  to  town,  just  as  some  of  them  came  into  the 
yard  in  the  morning.  A  circular  letter  came  next  post 
from  the  new  agent,  with  news  that  the  master  was  sailed 
for  England,  and  he  must  remit  ^5cxd  to  Bath  for  his  use 
before  a  fortnight  was  at  an  end ;  bad  news  still  for  the 
poor  tenants,  no  change  still  for  the  better  with  them.  Sir 
Kit  Rackrent,  my  young  master,  left  all  to  the  agent ;  and 

lO 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

though  he  had  the  spirit  of  a  prince,  and  lived  away  to  the 
honour  of  his  country  abroad,  which  I  was  proud  to  hear  of, 
what  were  we  the  better  for  that  at  home?  The  agent  was 
one  of  your  middlemen,*  who  grind  the  face  of  the  poor, 
and  can  never  bear  a  man  with  a  hat  upon  his  head  :  he  fer- 
reted the  tenants  out  of  their  lives ;  not  a  week  without  a 
call  for  money,  drafts  upon  drafts  from  Sir  Kit ;  but  I  laid  it 
all  to  the  fault  of  the  agent ;  for,  says  I,  what  can  Sir  Kit  do 
with  so  much  cash,  and  he  a  single  man?  But  still  it  went. 
Rents  must  be  all  paid  up  to  the  day,  and  afore ;  no  allow- 
ance for  improving  tenants,  no  consideration  for  those  who 
had  built  upon  their  farms:  no  sooner  was  a  lease  out,  but 
the  land  was  advertised  to  the  highest  bidder;  all  the  old 
tenants  turned  out,  when  they  spent  their  substance  in  the 
hope  and  trust  of  a  renewal  from  the  landlord.  All  was 
now  let  at  the  highest  penny  to  a  parcel  of  poor  wretches, 
who  meant  to  run  away,  and  did  so,  after  taking  two  crops 
out  of  the  ground.  Then  fining  down  the  year's  rent  came 
into  fashion  * — anything  for  the  ready  penny ;  and  with  all 
this  and  presents  to  the  agent  and  the  driver,^  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  standing  it.  I  said  nothing,  for  I  had  a  re- 
gard for  the  family ;  but  I  walked  about  thinking  if  his 
honour  Sir  Kit  knew  all  this,  it  would  go  hard  with  him 

^Middlemen. — There  was  a  class  of  men,  termed  middlemen,  in  Ireland, 
who  took  large  farms  on  long  leases  from  gentlemen  of  landed  property,  and 
let  the  land  again  in  small  portions  to  the  poor,  as  under-tenants,  at  exor- 
bitant rents.  The  head  landlord,  as  he  was  called,  seldom  saw  his  under- 
tenants;  but  if  he  could  not  get  the  middleman  to  pay  him  his  rent 
punctually,  he  went  to  his  land,  and  drove  the  land  for  his  rent ;  that  is  to 
say,  he  sent  his  steward,  or  bailiff,  or  driver,  to  the  land  to  seize  the  cattle, 
hay,  corn,  flax,  oats,  or  potatoes,  belonging  to  the  under-tenants,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  sell  these  for  his  rents.  It  sometimes  happened  that  these  unfor- 
tunate tenants  paid  their  rent  twice  over,  once  to  the  tniddleman,  and  once  to 
the  head  landlord. 

The  characteristics  of  a  middleman  were  servility  to  his  superiors  and 
tyranny  towards  his  inferiors  :  the  poor  detested  this  race  of  beings.  In 
speaking  to  them,  however,  they  always  used  the  most  abject  language,  and 
the  most  humble  tone  and  posture — "  Please  your  honour  ;  and  please  your 
honour's  honour,'''  they  knew  must  be  repeated  as  a  charm  at  the  beginning  and 
end  of  every  equivocating,  exculpatory,  or  supplicatory  sentence;  and  they  were 
much  more  alert  in  doffing  their  caps  to  those  new  men  than  to  those  of  what 
they  call  good  old  families.  A  witty  carpenter  once  termed  these  middlemen 
journeymen  gentlemen.  *  See  Glossary.  *  Ibid. 

II 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

but  he'd  see  us  righted ;  not  that  I  had  anything  for  my 
own  share  to  complain  of,  for  the  agent  was  always  very 
civil  to  me  when  he  came  down  into  the  country,  and  took 
a  great  deal  of  notice  of  my  son  Jason.  Jason  Quirk, 
though  he  be  my  son,  I  must  say  was  a  good  scholar  from 
his  birth,  and  a  very  'cute  lad:  I  thought  to  make  him  a 
priest,'  but  he  did  better  for  himself;  seeing  how  he  was  as 
good  a  clerk  as  any  in  the  county,  the  agent  gave  him  his 
rent  accounts  to  copy,  which  he  did  first  of  all  for  the 
pleasure  of  obliging  the  gentleman,  and  would  take  no- 
thing at  all  for  his  trouble,  but  was  always  proud  to  serve  the 
family.  By  and  by  a  good  farm  bounding  us  to  the  east 
fell  into  his  honour's  hands,  and  my  son  put  in  a  proposal 
for  it:  why  shouldn't  he,  as  well  as  another?  The  pro- 
posals all  went  over  to  the  master  at  the  Bath,  who  know- 
ing no  more  of  the  land  than  the  child  unborn,  only  having 
once  been  out  a-grousing  on  it  before  he  went  to  England  ; 
and  the  value  of  lands,  as  the  agent  informed  him,  falling 
every  year  in  Ireland,  his  honour  wrote  over  in  all  haste  a 
bit  of  a  letter,  saying  he  left  it  all  to  the  agent,  and  that 
he  must  let  it  as  well  as  he  could — to  the  best  bidder,  to  be 
sure — and  send  him  over  ^200  by  return  of  post :  with  this 
the  agent  gave  me  a  hint,  and  I  spoke  a  good  word  for  my 
son,  and  gave  out  in  the  country  that  nobody  need  bid 
against  us.  So  his  proposal  was  just  the  thing,  and  he  a 
good  tenant ;  and  he  got  a  promise  of  an  abatement  in  the 
rent  after  the  first  year,  for  advancing  the  half-year's  rent 
at  signing  the  lease,  which  was  wanting  to  complete  the 
agent's  ;^200  by  the  return  of  the  post,  with  all  which  my 
master  wrote  back  he  was  well  satisfied.  About  this  time 
we  learnt  from  the  agent,  as  a  great  secret,  how  the  money 
went  so  fast,  and  the  reason  of  the  thick  coming  of  the 
master's  drafts:  he  was  a  little  too  fond  of  play;  and 
Bath,  they  say,  was  no  place  for  no  young  man  of  his  for- 
tune, where  there  were  so  many  of  his  own  countrymen, 
too,  hunting  him  up  and  down,  day  and  night,  who  had 
nothing  to  lose.  At  last,  at  Christmas,  the  agent  wrote 
over  to  stop  the  drafts,  for  he  could  raise  no  more  money 
*  See  Glossary. 
12 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

on  bond  or  mortgage,  or  from  the  tenants,  or  anyhow,  nor 
had  he  any  more  to  lend  himself,  and  desired  at  the  same 
time  to  decline  the  agency  for  the  future,  wishing  Sir  Kit  his 
health  and  happiness,  and  the  compliments  of  the  season, 
for  I  saw  the  letter  before  ever  it  was  sealed,  when  my  son 
copied  it.  When  the  answer  came  there  was  a  new  turn  in 
affairs,  and  the  agent  was  turned  out;  and  my  son  Jason, 
who  had  corresponded  privately  with  his  honour  occasion- 
ally on  business,  was  forthwith  desired  by  his  honour  to 
take  the  accounts  into  his  own  hands,  and  look  them  over, 
till  further  orders.  It  was  a  very  spirited  letter  to  be  sure  : 
Sir  Kit  sent  his  service,  and  the  compliments  of  the  season, 
in  return  to  the  agent,  and  he  would  fight  him  with  pleas- 
ure to-morrow,  or  any  day,  for  sending  him  such  a  letter, 
if  he  was  born  a  gentleman,  which  he  was  sorry  (for  both 
their  sakes)  to  find  (too  late)  he  was  not.  Then,  in  a  priv- 
ate postscript,  he  condescended  to  tell  us  that  all  would  be 
speedily  settled  to  his  satisfaction,  and  we  should  turn  over 
a  new  leaf,  for  he  was  going  to  be  married  in  a  fortnight  to 
the  grandest  heiress  in  England,  and  had  only  immediate 
occasion  at  present  for  ^200,  as  he  would  not  choose  to 
touch  his  lady's  fortune  for  travelling  expenses  home  to 
Castle  Rackrent,  where  he  intended  to  be,  wind  and 
weather  permitting,  early  in  the  next  month ;  and  desired 
fires,  and  the  house  to  be  painted,  and  the  new  building  to 
go  on  as  fast  as  possible,  for  the  reception  of  him  and  his 
lady  before  that  time ;  with  several  words  besides  in  the 
letter,  which  we  could  not  make  out  because,  God  bless 
him !  he  wrote  in  such  a  flurry.  My  heart  warmed  to  my 
new  lady  when  I  read  this :  I  was  almost  afraid  it  was  too 
good  news  to  be  true;  but  the  girls  fell  to  scouring,  and  it 
was  well  they  did,  for  we  soon  saw  his  marriage  in  the 
paper,  to  a  lady  with  I  don't  know  how  many  tens  of 
thousand  pounds  to  her  fortune:  then  I  watched  the  post- 
ofifice  for  his  landing;  and  the  news  came  to  my  son  of  his 
and  the  bride  being  in  Dublin,  and  on  the  way  home  to 
Castle  Rackrent.  We  had  bonfires  all  over  the  country,  ex- 
pecting him  down  the  next  day,  and  we  had  his  coming  of 
age  still  to  celebrate,  which  he  had  not  time  to  do  properly 

13 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

before  he  left  the  country ;  therefore,  a  great  ball  was  ex- 
pected, and  great  doings  upon  his  coming,  as  it  were, 
fresh  to  take  possession  of  his  ancestors'  estate.  I  never 
shall  forget  the  day  he  came  home ;  we  had  waited  and 
waited  all  day  long  till  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  and  I  was 
thinking  of  sending  the  boy  to  lock  the  gates,  and  giving 
them  up  for  that  night,  when  there  came  the  carriages 
thundering  up  to  the  great  hall  door.  I  got  the  first  sight 
of  the  bride;  for  when  the  carriage  door  opened,  just  as 
she  had  her  foot  on  the  steps,  I  held  the  flam '  full  in  her 
face  to  light  her,  at  which  she  shut  her  eyes,  but  I  had  a 
full  view  of  the  rest  of  her,  and  greatly  shocked  I  was,  for 
by  that  light  she  was  little  better  than  a  blackamoor,  and 
seemed  crippled ;  but  that  was  only  sitting  so  long  in  the 
chariot. 

"You're  kindly  welcome  to  Castle  Rackrent,  my  lady," 
says  I  (recollecting  who  she  was).  "Did  your  honour  hear 
of  the  bonfires?  " 

His  honour  spoke  never  a  word,  nor  so  much  as  handed 
her  up  the  steps — he  looked  to  me  no  more  like  himself 
than  nothing  at  all ;  I  know  I  took  him  for  the  skeleton  of 
his  honour.  I  was  not  sure  what  to  say  next  to  one  or 
t'other,  but  seeing  she  was  a  stranger  in  a  foreign  country, 
I  thought  it  but  right  to  speak  cheerful  to  her;  so  I  went 
back  again  to  the  bonfires. 

"My  lady,"  says  I,  as  she  crossed  the  hall,  "there  would 
have  been  fifty  times  as  many;  but  for  fear  of  the  horses, 
and  frightening  your  ladyship,  Jason  and  I  forbid  them, 
please  your  honour." 

With  that  she  looked  at  me  a  little  bewildered. 

"Will  I  have  a  fire  lighted  in  the  state-room  to-night?" 
was  the  next  question  I  put  to  her,  but  never  a  word  she 
answered ;  so  I  concluded  she  could  not  speak  a  word  of 
English,  and  was  from  foreign  parts.  The  short  and  the 
long  of  it  was,  I  couldn't  tell  what  to  make  of  her;  so  I 
left  her  to  herself,  and  went  straight  down  to  the  servants' 
hall  to  learn  something  for  certain  about  her.  Sir  Kit's 
own  man  was  tired,  but  the  groom  set  him  a-talking  at 

'  See  Glossary. 
14 


i 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

last,  and  we  had  it  all  out  before  ever  I  closed  my  eyes  that 
night.  The  bride  might  well  be  a  great  fortune — she  was 
a  Jewish  by  all  accounts,  who  are  famous  for  their  great 
riches.  I  had  never  seen  any  of  that  tribe  or  nation  before, 
and  could  only  gather  that  she  spoke  a  strange  kind  of 
English  of  her  own,  that  she  could  not  abide  pork  or  saus- 
ages, and  went  neither  to  church  or  mass.  Mercy  upon 
his  honour's  poor  soul,  thought  I ;  what  will  become  of 
him  and  his,  and  all  of  us,  with  his  heretic  blackamoor  at 
the  head  of  the  Castle  Rackrent  estate?  I  never  slept  a 
wink  all  night  for  thinking  of  it ;  but  before  the  servants  I 
put  my  pipe  in  my  mouth,  and  kept  my  mind  to  myself, 
for  I  had  a  great  regard  for  the  family;  and  after  this, 
when  strange  gentlemen's  servants  came  to  the  house,  and 
would  begin  to  talk  about  the  bride,  I  took  care  to  put  the 
best  foot  foremost,  and  passed  her  for  a  nabob  in  the 
kitchen,  which  accounted  for  her  dark  complexion  and 
everything. 

The  very  morning  after  they  came  home,  however,  I 
saw  plain  enough  how  things  were  between  Sir  Kit  and  my 
lady,  though  they  were  walking  together  arm  in  arm  after 
breakfast,  looking  at  the  new  building  and  the  improve- 
ments. 

"Old  Thady,"  said  my  master,  just  as  he  used  to  do, 
"how  do  you  do?  " 

"Very  well,  I  thank  your  honour's  honour,"  said  I;  but 
I  saw  he  was  not  well  pleased,  and  my  heart  was  in  my 
mouth  as  I  walked  along  after  him. 

"Is  the  large  room  damp,  Thady?  "  said  his  honour. 

"Oh  damp,  your  honour!  how  should  it  be  but  as  dry 
as  a  bone,"  says  I,  "after  all  the  fires  we  have  kept  in  it 
day  and  night?  It's  the  barrack-room'  your  honour's 
talking  on." 

"^nd  what  is  a  barrack-room,  pray,  my  dear?  "  were  the 
first  words  I  ever  heard  out  of  my  lady's  lips. 

"No  matter,  my  dear,"  said  he,  and  went  on  talking 
to  me,  ashamed-like  I  should  witness  her  ignorance.  To 
be  sure,  to  hear  her  talk  one  might  have  taken  her  for  an 

*  See  Glossary. 
15 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

innocent,'  for  it  was,  "What's  this,  Sir  Kit?  and  what's 
that,  Sir  Kit?  "  all  the  way  we  went.  To  be  sure,  Sir  Kit 
had  enough  to  do  to  answer  her. 

"And  what  do  you  call  that,  Sir  Kit?"  said  she;  "that 
— that  looks  like  a  pile  of  black  bricks,  pray,  Sir  Kit?" 

' '  My  turf-stack,  my  dear, '  'said  my  master,  and  bit  his  lip. 

Where  have  you  lived,  my  lady,  all  your  life,  not  to 
know  a  turf-stack  when  you  see  it?  thought  I;  but  I  said 
nothing.  Then  by  and  by  she  takes  out  her  glass,  and 
begins  spying  over  the  country. 

"And  what's  all  that  black  swamp  out  yonder,  Sir  Kit?  " 
says  she. 

"My  bog,  my  dear,"  says  he,  and  went  on  whistling. 

"It's  a  very  ugly  prospect,  my  dear,"  says  she. 

"You  don't  see  it,  my  dear,"  says  he,  "for  we've 
planted  it  out ;  when  the  trees  grow  up  in  summer- 
time  "  says  he. 

"Where  are  the  trees,"  said  she,  "my  dear? "  still  look- 
ing through  her  glass. 

"You  are  blind,  my  dear,"  says  he;  "what  are  these 
under  your  eyes? " 

"These  shrubs?"  said  she. 

"Trees,"  said  he. 

"Maybe  they  are  what  you  call  trees  in  Ireland,  my 
dear, ' '  said  she ;  ' '  but  they  are  not  a  yard  high,  are  they  ? '  * 

"They  were  planted  out  but  last  year,  my  lady,"  says  I, 
to  soften  matters  between  them,  for  I  saw  she  was  going 
the  way  to  make  his  honour  mad  with  her:  "they  are  very 
well  grown  for  their  age,  and  you'll  not  see  the  bog  of  Ally- 
ballycarricko'shaughlin  at-all-at-all  through  the  skreen, 
when  once  the  leaves  come  out.  But,  my  lady,  you  must 
not  quarrel  with  any  part  or  parcel  of  Allyballycarrick- 
o'shaughlin,  for  you  don't  know  how  many  hundred  years 
that  same  bit  of  bog  has  been  in  the  family ;  we  would  not 
part  with  the  bog  of  Allyballycarricko'shaughlin  upon  no 
account  at  all;  it  cost  the  late  Sir  Murtagh  two  hundred 
good  pounds  to  defend  his  title  to  it  and  boundaries  against 
the  O'Learys,  who  cut  a  road  through  it." 

'  See  Glossary. 

i6 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

Now  one  would  have  thought  this  would  have  been  hint 
enough  for  my  lady,  but  she  fell  to  laughing  like  one  out 
of  their  right  mind,  and  made  me  say  the  name  of  the  bog 
over,  for  her  to  get  it  by  heart,  a  dozen  times ;  then  she 
must  ask  me  how  to  spell  it,  and  what  was  the  meaning  of 
it  in  English — Sir  Kit  standing  by  whistling  all  the  while. 
I  verily  believed  she  laid  the  corner-stone  of  all  her  future 
misfortunes  at  that  very  instant ;  but  I  said  no  more,  only 
looked  at  Sir  Kit. 

There  were  no  balls,  no  dinners,  no  doings;  the  country 
was  all  disappointed — Sir  Kit's  gentleman  said  in  a  whisper 
to  me,  it  was  all  my  lady's  own  fault,  because  she  was  so 
obstinate  about  the  cross. 

' '  What  cross ?  "  says  I ;  "  is  it  about  her  being  a  heretic ? " 

"Oh,  no  such  matter,"  says  he;  "my  master  does  not 
mind  her  heresies,  but  her  diamond  cross — it's  worth  I 
can't  tell  you  how  much,  and  she  has  thousands  of  English 
pounds  concealed  in  diamonds  about  her,  which  sheas  good 
as  promised  to  give  up  to  my  master  before  he  married ;  but 
now  she  won't  part  with  any  of  them,  and  she  must  take 
the  consequences." 

Her  honeymoon,  at  least  her  Irish  honeymoon,  was 
scarcely  well  over,  when  his  honour  one  morning  said  to 
me,  "Thady,  buy  me  a  pig! "  and  then  the  sausages  were 
ordered,  and  here  was  the  first  open  breaking-out  of  my 
lady's  troubles.  My  lady  came  down  herself  into  the 
kitchen  to  speak  to  the  cook  about  the  sausages,  and  de- 
sired never  to  see  them  more  at  her  table.  Now  my  mas- 
ter had  ordered  them,  and  my  lady  knew  that.  The  cook 
took  my  lady's  part,  because  she  never  came  down  into  the 
kitchen,  and  was  young  and  innocent  in  housekeeping, 
which  raised  her  pity ;  besides,  said  she,  at  her  own  table, 
surely  my  lady  should  order  and  disorder  what  she  pleases. 
But  the  cook  soon  changed  her  note,  for  my  master  made 
it  a  principle  to  have  the  sausages,  and  swore  at  her  for  a 
Jew  herself,  till  he  drove  her  fairly  out  of  the  kitchen ; 
then,  for  fear  of  her  place,  and  because  he  threatened  that 
my  lady  should  give  her  no  discharge  without  the  sausages, 
she  gave  up,  and  from  that  day  forward  always  sausages. 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

or  bacon,  or  pig-meat  in  some  shape  or  other,  went  up  to 
table;  upon  which  my  lady  shut  herself  up  in  her  own 
room,  and  my  master  said  she  might  stay  there,  with  an 
oath :  and  to  make  sure  of  her,  he  turned  the  key  in  the 
door,  and  kept  it  ever  after  in  his  pocket.  We  none  of  us 
ever  saw  or  heard  her  speak  for  seven  years  after  that ' :  he 
carried  her  dinner  himself.  Then  his  honour  had  a  great 
deal  of  company  to  dine  with  him,  and  balls  in  the  house, 
and  was  as  gay  and  gallant,  and  as  much  himself  as  before 
he  was  married ;  and  at  dinner  he  always  drank  my  Lady 
Rackrent's  good  health  and  so  did  the  company,  and  he 

'  This  part  of  the  history  of  the  Rackrent  family  can  scarcely  be  thought 
credible  ;  but  in  justice  to  honest  Thady,  it  is  hoped  the  reader  will  recollect 
the  history  of  the  celebrated  Lady  Cathcart's  conjugal  imprisonment.  The 
editor  was  acquainted  with  Colonel  M'Guire,  Lady  Cathcart's  husband ;  he 
has  lately  seen  and  questioned  the  maid-servant  who  lived  with  Colonel 
M'Guire  during  the  time  of  Lady  Cathcart's  imprisonment.  Her  ladyship 
was  locked  up  in  her  own  house  for  many  years,  during  which  period  her 
husband  was  visited  by  the  neighbouring  gentry,  and  it  was  his  regular  cus- 
tom at  dinner  to  send  his  compliments  to  Lady  Cathcart,  informing  her  that 
the  company  had  the  honour  to  drink  her  ladyship's  health,  and  begging  to 
know  whether  there  was  anything  at  table  that  she  would  like  to  eat  ?  The 
answer  was  always,  "  Lady  Cathcart's  compliments,  and  she  has  everything 
she  wants."  An  instance  of  honesty  in  a  poor  Irishwoman  deserves  to  be  re- 
corded. Lady  Cathcart  had  some  remarkably  fine  diamonds,  which  she  had 
concealed  from  her  husband,  and  which  she  was  anxious  to  get  out  of  the 
house,  lest  he  should  discover  them.  She  had  neither  servant  nor  friend  to 
whom  she  could  entrust  them,  but  she  had  observed  a  poor  beggar  woman, 
who  used  to  come  to  the  house  ;  she  spoke  to  her  from  the  window  of  the 
room  in  which  she  was  confined  ;  the  woman  promised  to  do  what  she  de- 
sired, and  Lady  Cathcart  threw  a  parcel  containing  the  jewels  to  her.  The 
poor  woman  carried  them  to  the  person  to  whom  they  were  directed,  and 
several  years  afterwards,  when  Lady  Cathcart  recovered  her  liberty,  she  re- 
ceived her  diamonds  safely. 

At  Colonel  M'Guire's  death  her  ladyship  was  released.  The  editor,  within 
this  year,  saw  the  gentleman  who  accompanied  her  to  England  after  her 
husband's  death.  When  she  first  was  told  of  his  death  she  imagined  that  the 
news  was  not  true,  and  that  it  was  told  only  with  an  intention  of  deceiving 
her.  At  his  death  she  had  scarcely  clothes  sufficient  to  cover  her  ;  she  wore 
a  red  wig,  looked  scared,  and  her  understanding  seemed  stupefied  ;  she  said 
that  she  scarcely  knew  one  human  creature  from  another  ;  her  imprisonment 
lasted  above  twenty  years.  These  circumstances  may  appear  strange  to  an 
English  reader  ;  but  there  is  no  danger  in  the  present  times  that  any  individual 
should  exercise  such  tyranny  as  Colonel  M'Guire's  with  impunity,  the  power 
being  now  all  in  the  hands  of  Government,  and  there  being  no  possibility  of 
obtaining  from  Parliament  an  Act  of  indemnity  for  any  cruelties. 

i8 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

sent  out  always  a  servant  with  his  compliments  to  my  Lady 
Rackrent,  and  the  company  was  drinking  her  ladyship's 
health,  and  begged  to  know  if  there  was  anything  at  table 
he  might  send  her,  and  the  man  came  back,  after  the  sham 
errand,  with  my  Lady  Rackrent's  compliments,  and  she 
was  very  much  obliged  to  Sir  Kit — she  did  not  wish  for 
anything,  but  drank  the  company's  health.  The  country, 
to  be  sure,  talked  and  wondered  at  my  lady's  being  shut 
up,  but  nobody  chose  to  interfere  or  ask  any  impertinent 
questions*,  for  they  knew  my  master  was  a  man  very  apt  to 
give  a  short  answer  himself,  and  likely  to  call  a  man  out  for 
it  afterwards :  he  was  a  famous  shot,  had  killed  his  man 
before  he  came  of  age,  and  nobody  scarce  dared  look  at 
him  whilst  at  Bath.  Sir  Kit's  character  was  so  well  known 
in  the  country  that  he  lived  in  peace  and  quietness  ever 
after,  and  was  a  great  favourite  with  the  ladies,  especially 
when  in  process  of  time,  in  the  fifth  year  of  her  confine- 
ment, my  Lady  Rackrent  fell  ill  and  took  entirely  to  her 
bed,  and  he  gave  out  that  she  was  now  skin  and  bone,  and 
could  not  last  through  the  winter.  In  this  he  had  two 
physicians'  opinions  to  back  him  (for  now  he  called  in  two 
physicians  for  her),  and  tried  all  his  arts  to  get  the  diamond 
cross  from  her  on  her  death-bed,  and  to  get  her  to  make  a 
will  in  his  favour  of  her  separate  possessions ;  but  there  she 
was  too  tough  for  him.  He  used  to  swear  at  her  behind 
her  back  after  kneeling  to  her  face,  and  call  her  in  the  pre- 
sence of  his  gentleman  his  stifT-necked  Israelite,  though  be- 
fore he  married  her  that  same  gentleman  told  me  he  used 
to  call  her  (how  he  could  bring  it  out,  I  don't  know)  "my 
pretty  Jessica!"  To  be  sure  it  must  have  been  hard  for 
her  to  guess  what  sort  of  a  husband  he  reckoned  to  make 
her.  When  she  was  lying,  to  all  expectation,  on  her  death- 
bed of  a  broken  heart,  I  could  not  but  pity  her,  though  she 
was  a  Jewish,  and  considering  too  it  was  no  fault  of  hers  to 
be  taken  with  my  master,  so  young  as  she  was  at  the  Bath, 
and  so  fine  a  gentleman  as  Sir  Kit  was  when  he  courted  her; 
and  considering  too,  after  all  they  had  heard  and  seen  of 
him  as  a  husband,  there  were  now  no  less  than  three  ladies 
in  our  county  talked  of  for  his  second  wife,  all  at  daggers 

19 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

drawn  with  each  other,  as  his  gentleman  swore,  at  the  balls, 
for  Sir  Kit  for  their  partner — I  could  not  but  think  them  be- 
witched, but  they  all  reasoned  with  themselves  that  Sir  Kit 
would  make  a  good  husband  to  any  Christian  but  a  Jewish,  I 
suppose,  and  especially  as  he  was  now  a  reformed  rake ;  and 
it  was  not  known  how  my  lady's  fortune  was  settled  in  her 
will,  nor  how  the  Castle  Rackrent  estate  was  all  mortgaged, 
and  bonds  out  against  him,  for  he  was  never  cured  of  his  gam- 
ing tricks ;  but  that  was  the  only  fault  he  had,  God  bless  him  ! 
My  lady  had  a  sort  of  fit,  and  it  was  given  out  that  she 
was  dead,  by  mistake :  this  brought  things  to  a  sad  crisis 
for  my  poor  master.  One  of  the  three  ladies  showed  his 
letters  to  her  brother,  and  claimed  his  promises,  whilst 
another  did  the  same.  I  don't  mention  names.  Sir  Kit, 
in  his  defence,  said  he  would  meet  any  man  who  dared  to 
question  his  conduct ;  and  as  to  the  ladies,  they  must  settle 
it  amongst  them  who  was  to  be  his  second,  and  his  third, 
and  his  fourth,  whilst  his  first  was  still  alive,  to  his  morti- 
fication and  theirs.  Upon  this,  as  upon  all  former  occa- 
sions, he  had  the  voice  of  the  country  with  him,  on  account 
of  the  great  spirit  and  propriety  he  acted  with.  He  met 
and  shot  the  first  lady's  brother :  the  next  day  he  called  out 
the  second,  who  had  a  wooden  leg,  and  their  place  of  meet- 
ing by  appointment  being  in  a  new-ploughed  field,  the 
wooden-leg  man  stuck  fast  in  it.  Sir  Kit,  seeing  his  situa- 
tion, with  great  candour  fired  his  pistol  over  his  head  ;  upon 
which  the  seconds  interposed,  and  convinced  the  parties 
there  had  been  a  slight  misunderstanding  between  them : 
thereupon  they  shook  hands  cordially,  and  went  home  to 
dinner  together.  This  gentleman,  to  show  the  world  how 
they  stood  together,  and  by  the  advice  of  the  friends  of 
both  parties,  to  re-establish  his  sister's  injured  reputation, 
v/ent  out  with  Sir  Kit  as  his  second,  and  carried  his  message 
next  day  to  the  last  of  his  adversaries :  I  never  saw  him  in 
such  fine  spirits  as  that  day  he  went  out — sure  enough  he 
was  within  ames-ace  of  getting  quit  handsomely  of  all  his 
enemies;  but  unluckily,  after  hitting  the  toothpick  out  of 
his  adversary's  finger  and  thumb,  he  received  a  ball  in  a 
vital  part,  and  was  brought  home,  in  little  better  than  an 

20 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

hour  after  the  affair,  speechless  on  a  hand-barrow  to  my 
lady.  We  got  the  key  out  of  his  pocket  the  first  thing  we 
did,  and  my  son  Jason  ran  to  unlock  the  barrack-room, 
where  my  lady  had  been  shut  up  for  seven  years,  to  ac- 
quaint her  with  the  fatal  accident.  The  surprise  bereaved 
her  of  her  senses  at  first,  nor  would  she  believe  but  we  were 
putting  some  new  trick  upon  her,  to  entrap  her  out  of  her 
jewels,  for  a  great  while,  till  Jason  bethought  himself  of 
taking  her  to  the  window,  and  showed  her  the  men  bring- 
ing Sir  Kit  up  the  avenue  upon  the  hand-barrow,  which 
had  immediately  the  desired  effect ;  for  directly  she  burst 
into  tears,  and  pulling  her  cross  from  her  bosom,  she  kissed 
it  with  as  great  devotion  as  ever  I  witnessed,  and  lifting  up 
her  eyes  to  heaven,  uttered  some  ejaculation,  which  none 
present  heard ;  but  I  take  the  sense  of  it  to  be,  she  returned 
thanks  for  this  unexpected  interposition  in  her  favour  when 
she  had  least  reason  to  expect  it.  My  master  was  greatly 
lamented :  there  was  no  life  in  him  when  we  lifted  him  off 
the  barrow,  so  he  was  laid  out  immediately,  and  "waked" 
the  same  night.  The  country  was  all  in  an  uproar  about 
him,  and  not  a  soul  but  cried  shame  upon  his  murderer, 
who  would  have  been  hanged  surely,  if  he  could  have  been 
brought  to  his  trial,  whilst  the  gentlemen  in  the  country 
were  up  about  it ;  but  he  very  prudently  withdrew  himself 
to  the  Continent  before  the  affair  was  made  public.  As 
for  the  young  lady  who  was  the  immediate  cause  of  the 
fatal  accident,  however  innocently,  she  could  never  show 
her  head  after  at  the  balls  in  the  county  or  any  place;  and 
by  the  advice  of  her  friends  and  physicians,  she  was  ordered 
soon  after  to  Bath,  where  it  was  expected,  if  anywhere  on 
this  side  of  the  grave,  she  would  meet  with  the  recovery  of 
her  health  and  lost  peace  of  mind.  As  a  proof  of  his  great 
popularity,  I  need  only  add  that  there  was  a  song  made 
upon  my  master's  untimely  death  in  the  newspapers,  which 
was  in  everybody's  mouth,  singing  up  and  down  through 
the  country,  even  down  to  the  mountains,  only  three  days 
after  his  unhappy  exit.  He  was  also  greatly  bemoaned  at 
the  Curragh,'  where  his  cattle  were  well  known;  and  all 
*  See  Glossary. 
21 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

who  had  taken  up  his  bets  were  particularly  inconsolable 
for  his  loss  to  society.  His  stud  sold  at  the  cant*  at  the 
greatest  price  ever  known  in  the  county;  his  favourite 
horses  were  chiefly  disposed  of  amongst  his  particular 
friends,  who  would  give  any  price  for  them  for  his  sake; 
but  no  ready  money  was  required  by  the  new  heir,  who 
wished  not  to  displease  any  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood just  upon  his  coming  to  settle  amongst  them  ;  so 
a  long  credit  was  given  where  requisite,  and  the  cash  has 
never  been  gathered  in  from  that  day  to  this. 

But  to  return  to  my  lady.  She  got  surprisingly  well  after 
my  master's  decease.  No  sooner  was  it  known  for  certain 
that  he  was  dead,  than  all  the  gentlemen  within  twenty 
miles  of  us  came  in  a  body,  as  it  were,  to  set  my  lady  at 
liberty,  and  to  protest  against  her  confinement,  which  they 
now  for  the  first  time  understood  was  against  her  own  con- 
sent. The  ladies  too  were  as  attentive  as  possible,  striving 
who  should  be  foremost  with  their  morning  visits ;  and  they 
that  saw  the  diamonds  spoke  very  handsomely  of  them, 
but  thought  it  a  pity  they  were  not  bestowed,  if  it  had  so 
pleased  God,  upon  a  lady  who  would  have  become  them 
better.  All  these  civilities  wrought  little  with  my  lady,  for 
she  had  taken  an  unaccountable  prejudice  against  the 
country,  and  everything  belonging  to  it,  and  was  so  partial 
to  her  native  land,  that  after  parting  with  the  cook,  which 
she  did  immediately  upon  my  master's  decease,  I  never 
knew  her  easy  one  instant,  night  or  day,  but  when  she  was 
packing  up  to  leave  us.  Had  she  meant  to  make  any  stay 
in  Ireland,  I  stood  a  great  chance  of  being  a  great  favourite 
with  her;  for  when  she  found  I  understood  the  weather- 
cock, she  was  always  finding  some  pretence  to  be  talking 
to  me,  and  asking  me  which  way  the  wind  blew,  and  was  it 
likely,  did  I  think,  to  continue  fair  for  England.  But  when 
I  saw  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  spend  the  rest  of  her 
days  upon  her  own  income  and  jewels  in  England,  I  con- 
sidered her  quite  as  a  foreigner,  and  not  at  all  any  longer 
as  part  of  the  family.  She  gave  no  vails  to  the  servants  at 
Castle  Rackrent  at  parting,  notwithstanding  the  old  pro- 

^  '  See  Glossary. 

22 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

verb  of  "as  rich  as  a  Jew,"  which  she,  being  a  Jewish,  they 
built  upon  with  reason.  But  from  first  to  last  she  brought 
nothing  but  misfortunes  amongst  us;  and  if  it  had  not  been 
all  along  with  her,  his  honour.  Sir  Kit,  would  have  been 
now  alive  in  all  appearance.  Her  diamond  cross  was,  they 
say,  at  the  bottom  of  it  all;  and  it  was  a  shame  for  her, 
being  his  wife,  not  to  show  more  duty,  and  to  have  given 
it  up  when  he  condescended  to  ask  so  often  for  such  a  bit 
of  a  trifle  in  his  distresses,  especially  when  he  all  along 
made  it  no  secret  he  married  for  money.  But  we  will  not 
bestow  another  thought  upon  her.  This  much  I  thought 
it  lay  upon  my  conscience  to  say,  in  justice  to  my  poor 
master's  memory. 

'Tis  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  no  good :  the  same 
wind  that  took  the  Jew  Lady  Rackrent  over  to  England 
brought  over  the  new  heir  to  Castle  Rackrent. 

Here  let  me  pause  for  breath  in  my  story,  for  though  I 
had  a  great  regard  for  every  member  of  the  family,  yet 
without  compare  Sir  Conolly,  commonly  called,  for  short, 
amongst  his  friends,  Sir  Condy  Rackrent,  was  ever  my 
great  favourite,  and,  indeed,  the  most  universally  beloved 
man  I  had  ever  seen  or  heard  of,  not  excepting  his  great 
ancestor  Sir  Patrick,  to  whose  memory  he,  amongst  other 
instances  of  generosity,  erected  a  handsome  marble  stone 
in  the  church  of  Castk  Rackrent,  setting  forth  in  large  let- 
ters his  age,  birth,  parentage,  and  many  other  virtues, 
concluding  with  the  compliment  so  justly  due,  that  "Sir 
Patrick  Rackrent  lived  and  died  a  monument  of  old  Irish 
hospitality." 


23 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 
CONTINUATION  OF  THE  MEMOIRS 

OF  THE 

RACKRENT  FAMILY 


HISTORY  OF   SIR   CONOLLY    RACKRENT. 

SIR  CONDY  RACKRENT,  by  the  grace  of  God  heir- 
at-law  to  the  Castle  Rackrent  estate,  was  a  remote 
branch  of  the  family.  Born  to  little  or  no  fortune  of 
his  own,  he  was  bred  to  the  bar,  at  which,  having  many 
friends  to  push  him  and  no  mean  natural  abilities  of  his 
own,  he  doubtless  would  in  process  of  time,  if  he  could 
have  borne  the  drudgery  of  that  study,  have  been  rapidly 
made  King's  Counsel  at  the  least ;  but  things  were  dis- 
posed of  otherwise,  and  he  never  went  the  circuit  but  twice, 
and  then  made  no  figure  for  want  of  a  fee,  and  being  unable 
to  speak  in  public.  He  received  his  education  chiefly  in 
the  college  of  Dublin,  but  before  he  came  to  years  of  dis- 
cretion lived  in  the  country,  in  a  small  but  slated  house 
within  view  of  the  end  of  the  avenue.  I  remember  him, 
bare  footed  and  headed,  running  through  the  street  of 
O'Shaughlin's  Town,  and  playing  at  pitch-and-toss,  ball, 
marbles,  and  what  not,  with  the  boys  of  the  town,  amongst 
whom  my  son  Jason  was  a  great  favourite  with  him.  As 
for  me,  he  was  ever  my  white-headed  boy :  often's  the  time, 
when  I  would  call  in  at  his  father's,  where  I  was  always 
made  welcome,  he  would  slip  down  to  me  in  the  kitchen, 
and  love  to  sit  on  my  knee  whilst  I  told  him  stories  of  the 
family  and  the  blood  from  which  he  was  sprung,  and  how 
he  might  look  forward,  if  the  then  present  man  should  die 
without  childer,  to  being  at  the  head  of  the  Castle  Rack- 
rent  estate.  This  was  then  spoke  quite  and  clear  at  random 
to  please  the  child,  but  it  pleased  Heaven  to  accomplish  my 
prophecy  afterwards,  which  gave  him  a  great  opinion  of 

24 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

my  judgment  in  business.  He  went  to  a  little  grammar- 
school  with  many  others,  and  my  son  amongst  the  rest, 
who  was  in  his  class,  and  not  a  little  useful  to  him  in  his 
book-learning,  which  he  acknowledged  with  gratitude  ever 
after.  These  rudiments  of  his  education  thus  completed, 
he  got  a-horseback,  to  which  exercise  he  was  ever  addicted, 
and  used  to  gallop  over  the  country  while  yet  but  a  slip  of 
a  boy,  under  the  care  of  Sir  Kit's  huntsman,  who  was  very 
fond  of  him,  and  often  lent  him  his  gun,  and  took  him  out 
a-shooting  under  his  own  eye.  By  these  means  he  became 
well  acquainted  and  popular  amongst  the  poor  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood early,  for  there  was  not  a  cabin  at  which  he  had 
not  stopped  some  morning  or  other,  along  with  the  hunts- 
man, to  drink  a  glass  of  burnt  whisky  out  of  an  eggshell,  to 
do  him  good  and  warm  his  heart  and  drive  the  cold  out  of 
his  stomach.  The  old  people  always  told  him  he  was  a 
great  likeness  of  Sir  Patrick,  which  made  him  first  have  an 
ambition  to  take  after  him,  as  far  as  his  fortune  should 
allow.  He  left  us  when  of  an  age  to  enter  the  college,  and 
there  completed  his  education  and  nineteenth  year,  for  as 
he  was  not  born  to  an  estate,  his  friends  thought  it  incumb- 
ent on  them  to  give  him  the  best  education  which  could 
be  had  for  love  or  money,  and  a  great  deal  of  money 
consequently  was  spent  upon  him  at  College  and  Temple. 
He  was  very  little  altered  for  the  worse  by  what  he  saw 
there  of  the  great  world,  for  when  he  came  down  into  the 
country  to  pay  us  a  visit,  we  thought  him  just  the  same 
man  as  ever — -hand  and  glove  with  every  one,  and  as  far 
from  high,  though  not  without  his  own  proper  share  of 
family  pride,  as  any  man  ever  you  see.  Latterly,  seeing 
how  Sir  Kit  and  the  Jewish  lived  together,  and  that  there 
was  no  one  between  him  and  the  Castle  Rackrent  estate,  he 
neglected  to  apply  to  the  law  as  much  as  was  expected  of 
him,  and  secretly  many  of  the  tenants  and  others  advanced 
him  cash  upon  his  note  of  hand  value  received,  promising 
bargains  of  leases  and  lawful  interest,  should  he  ever  come 
into  the  estate.  All  this  was  kept  a  great  secret  for  fear 
the  present  man,  hearing  of  it,  should  take  it  into  his  head 
to  take  it  ill  of  poor  Condy,  and  so  should  cut  him  ofi  for 

25. 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

ever  by  levying  a  fine,  and  suffering  a  recovery  to  dock  the 
entail.'  Sir  Murtagh  would  have  been  the  man  for  that; 
but  Sir  Kit  was  too  much  taken  up  philandering  to  con- 
sider the  law  in  this  case,  or  any  other.  These  practices  I 
have  mentioned  to  account  for  the  state  of  his  affairs — I 
mean  Sir  Condy's  upon  his  coming  into  the  Castle  Rack- 
rent  estate.  He  could  not  command  a  penny  of  his  first 
year's  income,  which,  and  keeping  no  accounts,  and  the 
great  sight  of  company  he  did,  with  many  other  causes  too 
numerous  to  mention,  was  the  origin  of  his  distresses.  My 
son  Jason,  who  was  now  established  agent,  and  knew  every- 
thing, explained  matters  out  of  the  face  to  Sir  Conolly,  and 
made  him  sensible  of  his  embarrassed  situation.  With  a 
great  nominal  rent-roll,  it  was  almost  all  paid  away  in  in- 
terest ;  which  being  for  convenience  suffered  to  run  on, 
soon  doubled  the  principal,  and  Sir  Condy  was  obliged  to 
pass  new  bonds  for  the  interest,  now  grown  principal,  and 
so  on.  Whilst  this  was  going  on,  my  son  requiring  to  be 
paid  for  his  trouble  and  many  years'  service  in  the  family 
gratis,  and  Sir  Condy  not  willing  to  take  his  affairs  into  his 
own  hands,  or  to  look  them  even  in  the  face,  he  gave  my 
son  a  bargain  of  some  acres  which  fell  out  of  lease  at  a 
reasonable  rent.  Jason  set  the  land,  as  soon  as  his  lease 
was  sealed,  to  under-tenants,  to  make  the  rent,  and  got 
two  hundred  a  year  profit  rent ;  which  was  little  enough 
considering  his  long  agency.  He  bought  the  land  at  twelve 
years'  purchase  two  years  afterwards,  when  Sir  Condy  was 
pushed  for  money  on  an  execution,  and  was  at  the  same 
time  allowed  for  his  improvements  thereon.  There  was  a 
sort  of  hunting-lodge  upon  the  estate,  convenient  to  my 
son  Jason's  land,  which  he  had  his  eye  upon  about  this 
time;  and  he  was  a  little  jealous  of  Sir  Condy,  who  talked 
of  setting  it  to  a  stranger  who  was  just  come  into  the 
country — Captain  Moneygawl  was  the  man.  He  was  son 
and  heir  to  the  Moneygawls  of  Mount  Juliet's  Town,  who 
had  a  great  estate  in  the  next  county  to  ours;  and  my  mas- 
ter was  loth  to  disoblige  the  young  gentleman,  whose  heart 
was  set  upon  the  Lodge ;  so  he  wrote  him  back  that  the 
'  See  Glossary. 
26 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

Lodge  was  at  his  service,  and  if  he  would  honour  him  with 
his  company  at  Castle  Rackrent,  they  could  ride  over  to- 
gether some  morning  and  look  at  it  before  signing  the  lease. 
Accordingly,  the  captain  came  over  to  us,  and  he  and  Sir 
Condy  grew  the  greatest  friends  ever  you  see,  and  were 
for  ever  out  a-shooting  or  hunting  together,  and  were  very 
merry  in  the  evenings ;  and  Sir  Condy  was  invited  of  course 
to  Mount  Juliet's  Town  ;  and  the  family  intimacy  that  had 
been  in  Sir  Patrick's  time  was  now  recollected,  and  nothing 
would  serve  Sir  Condy  but  he  must  be  three  times  a  week 
at  the  least  with  his  new  friends,  which  grieved  me,  who 
knew,  by  the  captain's  groom  and  gentleman,  how  they 
talked  of  him  at  Mount  Juliet's  Town,  making  him  quite, 
as  one  may  say,  a  laughing-stock  and  a  butt  for  the  whole 
company ;  but  they  were  soon  cured  of  that  by  an  accident 
that  surprised  'em  not  a  little,  as  it  did  me.  There  was  a 
bit  of  a  scrawl  found  upon  the  waiting-maid  of  old  Mr. 
Moneygawl's  youngest  daughter,  Miss  Isabella,  that  laid 
open  the  whole ;  and  her  father,  they  say,  was  like  one  out 
of  his  right  mind,  and  swore  it  was  the  last  thing  he  ever 
should  have  thought  of,  when  he  invited  my  master  to  his 
house,  that  his  daughter  should  think  of  such  a  match. 
But  their  talk  signified  not  a  straw,  for  as  Miss  Isabella's 
maid  reported,  her  young  mistress  was  fallen  over  head 
and  ears  in  love  with  Sir  Condy  from  the  first  time  that 
ever  her  brother  brought  him  into  the  house  to  dinner. 
The  servant  who  waited  that  day  behind  my  master's  chair 
was  the  first  who  knew  it,  as  he  says;  though  it's  hard  to 
believe  him,  for  he  did  not  tell  it  till  a  great  while  after- 
wards ;  but,  however,  it's  likely  enough,  as  the  thing  turned 
out,  that  he  was  not  far  out  of  the  way,  for  towards  the 
middle  of  dinner,  as  he  says,  they  were  talking  of  stage- 
plays,  having  a  playhouse,  and  being  great  play-actors  at 
Mount  Juliet's  Town;  and  Miss  Isabella  turns  short  to  my 
master,  and  says : 

"Have  you  seen  the  play-bill.  Sir  Condy?  " 

"No,  I  have  not,"  said  he. 

"Then  more  shame  for  you,"  said  the  captain  her 
brother,   "not   to   know   that  my  sister  is  to   play   Juliet 

27 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

to-night,  who  plays  it  better  than  any  woman  on  or  off 
the  stage  in  all  Ireland." 

' '  I  am  very  happy  to  hear  it, ' '  said  Sir  Condy  ;  and  there 
the  matter  dropped  for  the  present. 

But  Sir  Condy  all  this  time,  and  a  great  while  after- 
wards, was  at  a  terrible  nonplus ;  for  he  had  no  liking,  not 
he,  to  stage-plays,  nor  to  Miss  Isabella  either — to  his  mind, 
as  it  came  out  over  a  bowl  of  whisky-punch  at  home,  his 
little  Judy  M 'Quirk,  who  was  daughter  to  a  sister's  son  of 
mine,  was  worth  twenty  of  Miss  Isabella.  He  had  seen 
her  often  when  he  stopped  at  her  father's  cabin  to  drink 
whisky  out  of  the  eggshell,  out  huiiting,  before  he  came  to 
the  estate,  and,  as  she  gave  out,  was  under  something  like 
a  promise  of  marriage  to  her.  Anyhow,  I  could  not  but 
pity  my  poor  master,  who  was  so  bothered  between  them, 
and  he  an  easy-hearted  man,  that  could  not  disoblige  no- 
body— God  bless  him  !  To  be  sure,  it  was  not  his  place  to 
behave  ungenerous  to  Miss  Isabella,  who  had  disobliged 
all  her  relations  for  his  sake,  as  he  remarked ;  and  then 
she  was  locked  up  in  her  chamber,  and  forbid  to  think 
of  him  any  more,  which  raised  his  spirit,  because  his 
family  was,  as  he  observed,  as  good  as  theirs  at  any 
rate,  and  the  Rackrents  a  suitable  match  for  the  Money- 
gawls  any  day  in  the  year;  all  which  was  true  enough. 
But  it  grieved  me  to  see  that,  upon  the  strength  of  all 
this.  Sir  Condy  was  growing  more  in  the  mind  to  carry 
off  Miss  Isabella  to  Scotland,  in  spite  of  her  relations,  as 
she  desired. 

"It's  all  over  with  our  poor  Judy!"  said  I,  with  a  heavy 
sigh,  making  bold  to  speak  to  him  one  night  when  he  was 
a  little  cheerful,  and  standing  in  the  servants'  hall  all  alone 
with  me,  as  was  often  his  custom. 

Not  at  all, ' '  said  he ;  "I  never  was  fonder  of  Judy  than 
at  this  present  speaking;  and  to  prove  it  to  you,"  said  he 
— and  he  took  from  my  hand  a  halfpenny  change  that  I  had 
just  got  along  with  my  tobacco — "and  to  prove  it  to  you, 
Thady,"  says  he,  "it's  a  toss-up  with  me  which  I  should 
marry  this  minute,  her  or  Mr.  Moneygawl  of  Mount  Juliet's 
Town's  daughter — so  it  is." 

28 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

"Oh — boo!  boo!"'  says  I,  making  light  of  it,  to  see 
what  he  would  go  on  to  next;  "your  honour's  joking,  to 
be  sure;  there's  no  compare  between  our  poor  Judy  and 
Miss  Isabella,  who  has  a  great  fortune,  they  say." 

"I'm  not  a  man  to  mind  a  fortune,  nor  never  was,"  said 
Sir  Condy,  proudly,  "whatever  her  friends  may  say;  and 
to  make  short  of  it,"  says  he,  "I'm  come  to  a  determina- 
tion upon  the  spot."  With  that  he  swore  such  a  terrible 
oath  as  made  me  cross  myself.  "And  by  this  book,"  said 
he,  snatching  up  my  ballad-book,  mistaking  it  for  my 
prayer-book,  which  lay  in  the  window, — "and  by  this 
book,"  says  he,  "and  by  all  the  books  that  ever  were  shut 
and  opened,  it's  come  to  a  toss-up  with  me,  and  I'll  stand 
or  fall  by  the  toss ;  and  so  Thady,  hand  me  over  that  pin ' 
out  of  the  ink-horn"  ;  and  he  makes  a  cross  on  the  smooth 
side  of  the  halfpenny;  "Judy  M 'Quirk, "  says  he,  "her 
mark.'" 

God  bless  him !  his  hand  was  a  little  unsteadied  by  all 
the  whisky-punch  he  had  taken,  but  it  was  plain  to  see  his 
heart  was  for  poor  Judy.  My  heart  was  all  as  one  as  in  my 
mouth  when  I  saw  the  halfpenny  up  in  the  air,  but  I  said 
nothing  at  all ;  and  when  it  came  down  I  was  glad  I  had 
kept  myself  to  myself,  for  to  be  sure  now  it  was  all  over 
with  poor  Judy. 

"Judy's  out  a  luck,"  said  I,  striving  to  laugh. 

"I'm  out  a  luck,"  said  he;  and  I  never  saw  a  man  look 
so  cast  down :  he  took  up  the  halfpenny  off  the  flag,  and 
walked  away  quite  sober-like  by  the  shock.  Now,  though 
as  easy  a  man,  you  would  think,  as  any  in  the  wide  world, 

'  Boo  !  boo  ! — an  exclamation  equivalent  to  pshaw  or  nonsense. 
'  Pin,  r&a.d  pen. — It  formerly  was  vulgarly  pronounced /?'«  in  Ireland. 
^  Her  mark. — It  was  the  custom  in  Ireland  for  those  who  could  not  write 
to  make  a  cross  to  stand  for  their  signature,  as  was  formerly  the  practice  of 
our  English  monarchs.     The  Editor  inserts  the  facsimile  of  an  Irish  mark, 
which  may  hereafter  be  valuable  to  a  judicious  antiquary — 

Her 
Judy  X  M'Quirk, 
Mark. 
In  bonds  or  notes  signed  in  this  manner  a  witness  is  requisite,  as  the  name  is 
frequently  written  by  him  or  her. 

29 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

there  was  no  such  thing  as  making  him  unsay  one  of  these 
sort  of  vows,'  which  he  had  learned  to  reverence  when 
young,  as  I  well  remember  teaching  him  to  toss  up  for  bog- 
berries  on  my  knee.  So  I  saw  the  affair  was  as  good  as 
settled  between  him  and  Miss  Isabella,  and  I  had  no  more 
to  say  but  to  wish  her  joy,  which  I  did  the  week  after- 
wards, upon  her  return  from  Scotland  with  my  poor  master. 

My  new  lady  was  young,  as  might  be  supposed  of  a  lady 
that  had  been  carried  off  by  her  own  consent  to  Scotland ; 
but  I  could  only  see  her  at  first  through  her  veil,  which, 
from  bashfulness  or  fashion,  she  kept  over  her  face. 

"And  am  I  to  walk  through  all  this  crowd  of  people,  my 
dearest  love?"  said  she  to  Sir  Condy,  meaning  us  servants 
and  tenants,  who  had  gathered  at  the  back  gate. 

"My  dear,"  said  Sir  Condy,  "there's  nothing  for  it  but 
to  walk,  or  to  let  me  carry  you  as  far  as  the  house,  for  you 
see  the  back  road  is  too  narrow  for  a  carriage,  and  the  great 
piers  have  tumbled  down  across  the  front  approach;  so 
there's  no  driving  the  right  way,  by  reason  of  the  ruins." 

"Plato,  thou  reasonest  well !  "  said  she,  or  words  to  that 
effect,  which  I  could  noways  understand ;  and  again,  when 
her  foot  stumbled  against  a  broken  bit  of  a  car-wheel,  she 
cried  out,  "Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  us!" 
Well,  thought  I,  to  be  sure,  if  she's  no  Jewish,  like  the 
last,  she  is  a  mad  woman  for  certain,  which  is  as  bad :  it 
would  have  been  as  well  for  my  poor  master  to  have  taken 
up  with  poor  Judy,  who  is  in  her  right  mind  anyhow. 

She  was  dressed  like  a  mad  woman,  moreover,  more  than 
like  any  one  I  ever  saw  afore  or  since,  and  I  could  not  take 
my  eyes  off  her,  but  still  followed  behind  her;  and  her 
feathers  on  the  top  of  her  hat  were  broke  going  in  at  the 

'  Vows. — It  has  been  maliciously  and  unjustly  hinted  that  the  lower  classes 
of  the  people  of  Ireland  pay  but  little  regard  to  oaths  ;  yet  it  is  certain  that 
some  oaths  or  vows  have  great  power  over  their  minds.  Sometimes  they 
swear  they  will  be  revenged  on  some  of  their  neighbours  ;  this  is  an  oath  that 
they  are  never  known  to  break.  But,  what  is  infinitely  more  extraordinary 
and  unaccountable,  they  sometimes  make  and  keep  a  vow  against  whisky  ; 
these  vows  are  usually  limited  to  a  short  time.  A  woman  who  has  a  drunken 
husband  is  most  fortunate  if  she  can  prevail  upon  him  to  go  to  the  priest,  and 
make  a  vow  against  whisky  for  a  year,  or  a  month,  or  a  week,  or  a  day. 

30 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

low  back  door,  and  she  pulled  out  her  little  bottle  out  of 
her  pocket  to  smell  when  she  found  herself  in  the  kitchen, 
and  said,  "I  shall  faint  with  the  heat  of  this  odious,  odious 
place." 

"My  dear,  it's  only  three  steps  across  the  kitchen,  and 
there's  a  fine  air  if  your  veil  was  up,"  said  Sir  Condy  ;  and 
with  that  threw  back  her  veil,  so  that  I  had  then  a  full  sight 
of  her  face.  She  had  not  at  all  the  colour  of  one  sfoine  to 
faint,  but  a  fine  complexion  of  her  own,  as  I  then  took  it 
to  be,  though  her  maid  told  me  after  it  was  all  put  on ;  but 
even  complexion  and  all  taken  in,  she  was  no  way,  in  point 
of  good  looks,  to  compare  to  poor  Judy,  and  withal  she 
had  a  quality  toss  with  her;  but  maybe  it  was  my  over- 
partiality  to  Judy,  into  whose  place  I  may  say  she  stepped, 
that  made  me  notice  all  this. 

To  do  her  justice,  however,  she  was,  when  we  came  to 
know  her  better,  very  liberal  in  her  housekeeping — nothing 
at  all  of  the  skinflint  in  her;  she  left  everything  to  the 
housekeeper,  and  her  own  maid,  Mrs.  Jane,  who  went  with 
her  to  Scotland,  gave  her  the  best  of  characters  for  gener- 
osity. She  seldom  or  ever  wore  a  thing  twice  the  same 
way,  Mrs.  Jane  told  us,  and  was  always  pulling  her  things 
to  pieces  and  giving  them  away,  never  being  used,  in  her 
father's  house,  to  think  of  expense  in  anything;  and  she 
reckoned  to  be  sure  to  go  on  the  same  way  at  Castle  Rack- 
rent;  but  when  I  came  to  inquire,  I  learned  that  her  father 
was  so  mad  with  her  for  running  off,  after  his  locking  her 
up  and  forbidding  her  to  think  any  more  of  Sir  Condy,  that 
he  would  not  give  her  a  farthing;  and  it  was  lucky  for  her 
she  had  a  few  thousands  of  her  own,  which  had  been  left  to 
her  by  a  good  grandmother,  and  these  were  very  convenient 
to  begin  with.  My  master  and  my  lady  set  out  in  great 
style ;  they  had  the  finest  coach  and  chariot,  and  horses 
and  liveries,  and  cut  the  greatest  dash  in  the  county,  re- 
turning their  wedding  visits;  and  it  was  immediately 
reported  that  her  father  had  undertaken  to  pay  all  my 
master's  debts,  and  of  course  all  his  tradesmen  gave  him  a 
new  credit,  and  everything  went  on  smack  smooth,  and  I 
could  not  but  admire  my  lady's  spirit,  and  was  proud  to 

31 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

see  Castle  Rackrent  again  in  all  its  glory.  My  lady  had  a 
fine  taste  for  building,  and  furniture,  and  playhouses,  and 
she  turned  everything  topsy-turvy,  and  made  the  barrack- 
room  into  a  theatre,  as  she  called  it,  and  she  went  on  as  if 
she  had  a  mint  of  money  at  her  elbow ;  and  to  be  sure  I 
thought  she  knew  best,  especially  as  Sir  Condy  said  no- 
thing to  it  one  way  or  the  other.  All  he  asked — God  bless 
him ! — was  to  live  in  peace  and  quietness,  and  have  his 
bottle  or  his  whisky-punch  at  night  to  himself.  Now  this 
was  little  enough,  to  be  sure,  for  any  gentleman ;  but  my 
lady  could  n't  abide  the  smell  of  the  whisky-punch. 

' '  My  dear, ' '  says  he,  *  *  you  liked  it  well  enough  before  we 
were  married,  and  why  not  now?" 

"My  dear,"  said  she,  "I  never  smelt  it,  or  I  assure  you 
I  should  never  have  prevailed  upon  myself  to  marry  you." 

"My  dear,  I  am  sorry  you  did  not  smell  it,  but  we  can't 
help  that  now,"  returned  my  master,  without  putting  him- 
self in  a  passion,  or  going  out  of  his  way,  but  just  fair  and 
easy  helped  himself  to  another  glass,  and  drank  it  off  to  her 
good  health. 

All  this  the  butler  told  me,  who  was  going  backwards 
and  forwards  unnoticed  with  the  jug,  and  hot  water,  and 
sugar,  and  all  he  thought  wanting.  Upon  my  master's 
swallowing  the  last  glass  of  whisky-punch  my  lady  burst 
into  tears,  calling  him  an  ungrateful,  base,  barbarous 
wretch;  and  went  off  into  a  fit  of  hysterics,  as  I  think 
Mrs.  Jane  called  it,  and  my  poor  master  was  greatly  fright- 
ened, this  being  the  first  thing  of  the  kind  he  had  seen ; 
and  he  fell  straight  on  his  knees  before  her,  and,  like  a 
good-hearted  cratur  as  he  was,  ordered  the  whisky-punch 
out  of  the  room,  and  bid  'em  throw  open  all  the  windows, 
and  cursed  himself:  and  then  my  lady  came  to  herself 
again,  and  when  she  saw  him  kneeling  there,  bid  him  get 
up,  and  not  forswear  himself  any  more,  for  that  she  was 
sure  he  did  not  love  her,  and  never  had.  This  we  learned 
from  Mrs.  Jane,  who  was  the  only  person  left  present  at 
all  this. 

"My  dear,"  returns  my  master,  thinking,  to  be  sure,  of 
Judy,  as  well  he  might,  "whoever  told  you  so  is  an  incend- 

32 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

iary,  and  I'll  have  'em  turned  out  of  the  house  this  minute, 
if  you  '11  only  let  me  know  which  of  them  it  was." 

"Told  me  what?"  said  my  lady,  starting  upright  in  her 
chair. 

"Nothing  at  all,  nothing  at  all,"  said  my  master,  seeing 
he  had  overshot  himself,  and  that  my  lady  spoke  at  ran- 
dom;  "but  what  you  said  just  now,  that  I  did  not  love 
you,  Bella;  who  told  you  that?" 

"My  own  sense,"  she  said,  and  she  put  her  handkerchief 
to  her  face,  and  leant  back  upon  Mrs.  Jane,  and  fell  to 
sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

"Why  now,  Bella,  th,is  is  very  strange  of  you,"  said  my 
poor  master;  "if  nobody  has  told  you  nothing,  what  is  it 
you  are  taking  on  for  at  this  rate,  and  exposing  yourself 
and  me  for  this  way? " 

"Oh,  say  no  more,  say  no  more;  every  word  you  say 
kills  me,"  cried  my  lady;  and  she  ran  on  like  one,  as  Mrs. 
Jane  says,  raving,  "Oh,  Sir  Condy,  Sir  Condy  !  I  that  had 
hoped  to  find  in  you " 

"Why  now,  faith,  this  is  a  little  too  much;  do,  Bella, 
try  to  recollect  yourself,  my  dear;  am  not  I  your  husband, 
and  of  your  own  choosing,  and  is  not  that  enough?" 

"Oh,  too  much!  too  much!"  cried  my  lady,  wringing 
her  hands. 

"Why,  my  dear,  come  to  your  right  senses,  for  the  love 
of  heaven.  See,  is  not  the  whisky-punch,  jug  and  bowl 
and  all,  gone  out  of  the  room  long  ago?  What  is  it,  in  the 
wide  world,  you  have  to  complain  of?  " 

But  still  my  lady  sobbed  and  sobbed,  and  called  herself 
the  most  wretched  of  women  ;  and  among  other  out-of-the- 
way  provoking  things,  asked  my  master,  was  he  fit  com- 
pany for  her,  and  he  drinking  all  night?  This  nettling  him, 
which  it  was  hard  to  do,  he  replied,  that  as  to  drinking  all 
night,  he  was  then  as  sober  as  she  was  herself,  and  that  it 
was  no  matter  how  much  a  man  drank,  provided  it  did  no- 
ways affect  or  stagger  him :  that  as  to  being  fit  company 
for  her,  he  thought  himself  of  a  family  to  be  fit  company 
for  any  lord  or  lady  in  the  land ;  but  that  he  never  pre- 
vented her  from  seeing  and  keeping  what  company  she 

3  33 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

pleased,  and  that  he  had  done  his  best  to  make  Castle 
Rackrent  pleasing  to  her  since  her  marriage,  having  always 
had  the  house  full  of  visitors,  and  if  her  own  relations  were 
not  amongst  them,  he  said  that  was  their  own  fault,  and 
their  pride's  fault,  of  which  he  was  sorry  to  find  her  lady- 
ship had  so  unbecoming  a  share.  So  concluding,  he  took 
his  candle  and  walked  off  to  his  room,  and  my  lady  was  in 
her  tantarums  for  three  days  after;  and  would  have  been  so 
much  longer,  no  doubt,  but  some  of  her  friends,  young 
ladies,  and  cousins,  and  second  cousins,  came  to  Castle 
Rackrent,  by  my  poor  master's  express  invitation,  to  see 
her,  and  she  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  up,  as  Mrs.  Jane  called  it, 
a  play  for  them,  and  so  got  well,  and  was  as  finely  dressed, 
and  as  happy  to  look  at,  as  ever;  and  all  the  young 
ladies,  who  used  to  be  in  her  room  dressing  of  her,  said  in 
Mrs.  Jane's  hearing  that  my  lady  was  the  happiest  bride  ever 
they  had  seen,  and  that  to  be  sure  a  love-match  was  the 
only  thing  for  happiness,  where  the  parties  could  any  way 
afford  it. 

As  to  affording  it,  God  knows  it  was  little  they  knew  of 
the  matter;  my  lady's  few  thousands  could  not  last  for 
ever,  especially  the  way  she  went  on  with  them ;  and  let- 
ters from  tradesfolk  came  every  post  thick  and  threefold, 
with  bills  as  long  as  my  arm,  of  years'  and  years'  standing. 
My  son  Jason  had  'em  all  handed  over  to  him,  and  the 
pressing  letters  were  all  unread  by  Sir  Condy,  who  hated 
trouble,  and  could  never  be  brought  to  hear  talk  of  busi- 
ness, but  still  put  it  off  and  put  it  off,  saying,  "Settle  it 
anyhow,"  or,  "Bid  'em  call  again  to-morrow,"  or,  "Speak 
to  me  about  it  some  other  time."  Now  it  was  hard  to  find 
the  right  time  to  speak,  for  in  the  mornings  he  was  a-bed, 
and  in  the  evenings  over  his  bottle,  where  no  gentleman 
chooses  to  be  disturbed.  Things  in  a  twelvemonth  or  so 
came  to  such  a  pass  there  was  no  making  a  shift  to  go  on 
any  longer,  though  we  were  all  of  us  well  enough  used  to 
live  from  hand  to  mouth  at  Castle  Rackrent.  One  day,  I 
remember,  when  there  was  a  power  of  company,  all  sitting 
after  dinner  in  the  dusk,  not  to  say  dark,  in  the  drawing- 
room,    m}'   lady  having   rung  five   times  for  candles,   and 

34 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

none  to  go  up,  the  housekeeper  sent  up  the  footman,  who 
went  to  my  mistress,  and  whispered  behind  her  chair  how 
it  was. 

' '  My  lady, ' '  says  he, ' '  there  are  no  candles  in  the  house. ' ' 

"Bless  me,"  says  she;  "then  take  a  horse  and  gallop  off 
as  fast  as  you  can  to  Carrick  O' Fungus,  and  get  some." 

"And  in  the  meantime  tell  them  to  step  into  the  play- 
house, and  try  if  there  are  not  some  bits  left,"  added  Sir 
Condy,  who  happened  to  be  within  hearing.  The  man 
was  sent  up  again  to  my  lady,  to  let  her  know  there  was 
no  horse  to  go,  but  one  that  wanted  a  shoe. 

"Go  to  Sir  Condy  then  ;  I  know  nothing  at  all  about  the 
horses,"  said  my  lady  ;  "why  do  you  plague  me  with  these 
things?"  How  it  was  settled,  I  really  forget,  but  to  the 
best  of  my  remembrance,  the  boy  was  sent  down  to  my 
son  Jason's  to  borrow  candles  for  the  night.  Another 
time,  in  the  winter,  and  on  a  desperate  cold  day,  there  was 
no  turf  in  for  the  parlour  and  above  stairs,  and  scarce 
enough  for  the  cook  in  the  kitchen.  The  little  gossoon ' 
was  sent  off  to  the  neighbours,  to  see  and  beg  or  borrow 
some,  but  none  could  he  bring  back  with  him  for  love  or 
money ;  so,  as  needs  must,  we  were  forced  to  trouble  Sir 
Condy — "Well,  and  if  there's  no  turf  to  be  had  in  the  town 
or  country,  why,  what  signifies  talking  any  more  about  it ; 
can't  ye  go  and  cut  down  a  tree?  " 

"Which  tree,  please  your  honour?  "  I  made  bold  to  say. 

"Any  tree  at  all  that's  good  to  burn,"  said  Sir  Condy; 
"send  off  smart  and  get  one  down,  and  the  fires  lighted, 
before  my  lady  gets  up  to  breakfast,  or  the  house  will  be 
too  hot  to  hold  us." 

He  was  always  very  considerate  in  all  things  about  my 
lady,  and  she  wanted  for  nothing  whilst  he  had  it  to  give. 
Well,  when  things  were  tight  with  them  about  this  time, 
my  son  Jason  put  in  a  word  again  about  the  Lodge,  and 

'  Gossoon  :  a  little  boy— from  the  French  word  garfoti.  In  most  Irish 
families  there  used  to  be  a  barefooted  gossoon,  who  was  slave  to  the  cook  and 
the  butler,  and  who,  in  fact,  without  wages,  did  all  the  hard  work  of  the 
house.  Gossoons  were  always  employed  as  messengers.  The  Editor  has 
known  a  gossoon  to  go  on  foot,  without  shoes  or  stockings  lifty-one  English 
miles  between  sunrise  and  sunset. 

35 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

made  a  genteel  offer  to  lay  down  the  purchase-money,  to 
relieve  Sir  Condy's  distresses.  Now  Sir  Condy  had  it 
from  the  best  authority  that  there  were  two  writs  come 
down  to  the  sheriff  against  his  person,  and  the  sheriff,  as 
ill-luck  would  have  it,  was  no  friend  of  his,  and  talked  how 
he  must  do  his  duty,  and  how  he  would  do  it,  if  it  was 
against  the  first  man  in  the  country,  or  even  his  own 
brother,  let  alone  one  who  had  voted  against  him  at  the 
last  election,  as  Sir  Condy  had  done.  So  Sir  Condy  was 
fain  to  take  the  purchase-money  of  the  Lodge  from  my 
son  Jason  to  settle  matters ;  and  sure  enough  it  was  a  good 
bargain  for  both  parties,  for  my  son  bought  the  fee-simple 
of  a  good  house  for  him  and  his  heirs  for  ever,  for  little  or 
nothing,  and  by  selling  of  it  for  that  same  my  master  saved 
himself  from  a  gaol.  Every  way  it  turned  out  fortunate 
for  Sir  Condy,  for  before  the  money  was  all  gone  there 
came  a  general  election,  and  he  being  so  well  beloved  in 
the  county,  and  one  of  the  oldest  families,  no  one  had  a 
better  right  to  stand  candidate  for  the  vacancy ;  and  he 
was  called  upon  by  all  his  friends,  and  the  whole  county  I 
may  say,  to  declare  himself  against  the  old  member,  who 
had  little  thought  of  a  contest.  My  master  did  not  relish 
the  thoughts  of  a  troublesome  canvas,  and  all  the  ill-will 
he  might  bring  upon  himself  by  disturbing  the  peace  of  the 
county,  besides  the  expense,  which  was  no  trifle;  but  all 
his  friends  called  upon  one  another  to  subscribe,  and  they 
formed  themselves  into  a  committee,  and  wrote  all  his  cir- 
cular letters  for  him,  and  engaged  all  his  agents,  and  did 
all  the  business  unknown  to  him ;  and  he  was  well  pleased 
that  it  should  be  so  at  last,  and  my  lady  herself  was  very 
sanguine  about  the  election ;  and  there  was  open  house 
kept  night  and  day  at  Castle  Rackrent,  and  I  thought  I 
never  saw  my  lady  look  so  well  in  her  life  as  she  did  at  that 
time.  There  were  grand  dinners,  and  all  the  gentlemen 
drinking  success  to  Sir  Condy  till  they  were  carried  off; 
and  then  dances  and  balls,  and  the  ladies  all  finishing  with 
a  raking  pot  of  tea  in  the  morning.'  Indeed,  it  was  well 
the  company  made  it  their  choice  to  sit  up  all  night,  for 

'  See  Glossary. 

36 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

there  were  not  half  beds  enough  for  the  sights  of  people 
that  were  in  it,  though  there  were  shake-downs  in  the 
drawing-room  always  made  up  before  sunrise  for  those  that 
liked  it.  For  my  part,  when  I  saw  the  doings  that  were 
going  on,  and  the  loads  of  claret  that  went  down  the 
throats  of  them  that  had  no  right  to  be  asking  for  it,  and 
the  sights  of  meat  that  went  up  to  table  and  never  came 
down,  besides  what  was  carried  off  to  one  or  t'other  below 
stair,  I  couldn't  but  pity  my  poor  master,  who  was  to  pay 
for  all ;  but  I  said  nothing,  for  fear  of  gaining  myself  ill- 
will.  The  day  of  election  will  come  some  time  or  other, 
says  I  to  myself,  and  all  will  be  over ;  and  so  it  did,  and  a 
glorious  day  it  was  as  any  I  ever  had  the  happiness  to  see.. 
"Huzza!  huzza!  Sir  Condy  Rackrent  for  ever!"  was 
the  first  thing  I  hears  in  the  morning,  and  the  same  and 
nothing  else  all  day,  and  not  a  soul  sober  only  just  when 
polling,  enough  to  give  their  votes  as  became  'em,  and  to 
stand  the  browbeating  of  the  lawyers,  who  came  tight 
enough  upon  us ;  and  many  of  our  freeholders  were 
knocked  off,  having  never  a  freehold  that  they  could  safely 
swear  to,  and  Sir  Condy  was  not  willing  to  have  any  man 
perjure  himself  for  his  sake,  as  was  done  on  the  other  side, 
God  knows;  but  no  matter  for  that.  Some  of  our  friends 
were  dumbfounded  by  the  lawyers  asking  them  :  Had  they 
ever  been  upon  the  ground  where  their  freeholds  lay? 
Now,  Sir  Condy  being  tender  of  the  consciences  of  them 
that  had  not  been  on  the  ground,  and  so  could  not  swear 
to  a  freehold  when  cross-examined  by  them  lawyers,  sent 
out  for  a  couple  of  cleavesful  of  the  sods  of  his  farm  of 
Gulteeshinnagh  ' ;  and  as  soon  as  the  sods  came  into  town, 
he  set  each  man  upon  his  sod,  and  so  then,  ever  after,  you 

>  At  St.  Patrick's  meeting,  London,  March,  iSo6,  the  Duke  of  Sussex  said 
he  had  the  honour  of  bearing  an  Irish  title,  and,  with  the  permission  of  the 
company,  he  should  tell  them  an  anecdote  of  what  he  had  experienced  on  his 
travels.  When  he  was  at  Rome  he  went  to  visit  an  Irish  seminary,  and  when 
they  heard  who  it  was,  and  that  Ije  had  an  Irish  title,  some  of  them  asked 
him,  "  Please  your  Royal  Highness,  since  you  are  an  Irish  peer,  will  you  tell 
us  if  you  ever  trod  upon  Irish  ground?"  When  he  told  them  he  had  not, 
"Oh,  then,"  said  one  of  the  Order,  "you  shall  soon  do  so."  They  then 
spread  some  earth,  which  had  been  brought  from  Ireland,  on  a  marble  slab, 
and  made  him  stand  upon  it. 

37 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

know,  they  could  fairly  swear  they  had  been  upon  the 
ground.'  We  gained  the  day  by  this  piece  of  honesty."  I 
thought  I  should  have  died  in  the  streets  for  joy  when  I 
seed  my  poor  master  chaired,  and  he  bareheaded,  and  it 
raining  as  hard  as  it  could  pour ;  but  all  the  crowds  follow- 
ing him  up  and  down,  and  he  bowing  and  shaking  hands 
with  the  whole  town. 

"Is  that  Sir  Condy  Rackrent  in  the  chair?"  says  a 
stranger  man  in  the  crowd. 

"The  same,"  says  I.  "Who  else  should  it  be?  God 
bless  him !  " 

"And  I  take  it,  then,  you  belong  to  him?"  says  he. 

"Not  at  all,"  says  I;  "but  I  live  under  him,  and  have 
done  so  these  two  hundred  years  and  upwards,  me  and 
mine." 

"It's  lucky  for  you,  then,"  rejoins  he,  "that  he  is  where 
he  is ;  for  was  he  anywhere  else  but  in  the  chair,  this 
minute  he'd  be  in  a  worse  place;  for  I  was  sent  down  on 
purpose  to  put  him  up,'  and  here's  my  order  for  so  doing 
in  my  pocket." 

It  was  a  writ  that  villain  the  wine  merchant  had  marked 
against  my  poor  master  for  some  hundreds  of  an  old  debt, 
which  it  was  a  shame  to  be  talking  of  at  such  a  time  as  this. 

"Put  it  in  your  pocket  again,  and  think  no  more  of  it 
anyways  for  seven  years  to  come,  my  honest  friend,"  says 
I;  "he's  a  member  of  Parliament  now,  praised  be  God, 
and  such  as  you  can't  touch  him  :  and  if  you'll  take  a  fool's 
advice,  I'd  have  you  keep  out  of  the  way  this  day,  or 
you'll  run  a  good  chance  of  getting  your  deserts  amongst 
my  master's  friends,  unless  you  choose  to  drink  his  health 
like  everybody  else." 

"I've  no  objection  to  that  in  life,"  said  he.  So  we  went 
into  one  of  the  public-houses  kept  open  for  my  master; 
and  we  had  a  great  deal  of  talk  about  this  thing  and  that. 
"And  how  is  it,"  says  he,  "your  master  keeps  on  so  well 
upon  his  legs?  I  heard  say  he 'was  off  Holantide  twelve- 
month past." 

'  This  was  actually  done  at  an  election  in  Ireland.  ^  See  Glossary. 

^  To  put  him  up  :  to  put  him  in  gaol. 

38 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

"Never  was  better  or  heartier  in  his  life,"  said  I. 

"It's  not  that  I'm  after  speaking  of,"  said  he;  "but 
there  was  a  great  report  of  his  being  ruined." 

"No  matter,"  says  I,  "the  sheriffs  two  years  running 
were  his  particular  friends,  and  the  sub-sheriffs  were  both 
of  them  gentlemen,  and  were  properly  spoken  to ;  and  so 
the  writs  lay  snug  with  them,  and  they,  as  I  understand 
by  my  son  Jason  the  custom  in  them  cases  is,  returned  the 
writs  as  they  came  to  them  to  those  that  sent  'em — much 
good  may  it  do  them ! — with  a  word  in  Latin,  that  no  such 
person  as  Sir  Condy  Rackrent,  Bart.,  was  to  be  found  in 
those  parts." 

"Oh,  I  understand  all  those  ways  better — no  offence — 
than  you,"  says  he,  laughing,  and  at  the  same  time  filling 
his  glass  to  my  master's  good  health,  which  convinced  me 
he  was  a  warm  friend  in  his  heart  after  all,  though  appear- 
ances were  a  little  suspicious  or  so  at  first.  "To  be  sure," 
says  he,  still  cutting  his  joke,  "when  a  man's  over  head 
and  shoulders  in  debt,  he  may  live  the  faster  for  it,  and 
the  better  if  he  goes  the  right  way  about  it ;  or  else  how  is 
it  so  many  live  on  so  well,  as  we  see  every  day,  after  they 
are  ruined? " 

"How  is  it,"  says  I,  being  a  little  merry  at  the  time — 
"how  is  it  but  just  as  you  see  the  ducks  in  the  chicken- 
yard,  just  after  their  heads  are  cut  off  by  the  cook,  running 
round  and  round  faster  than  when  alive?  " 

At  which  conceit  he  fell  a-laughing,  and  remarked  he 
had  never  had  the  happiness  yet  to  see  the  chicken-yard  at 
Castle  Rackrent. 

"It  won't  be  long  so,  I  hope,"  says  I ;  "you'll  be  kindly 
welcome  there,  as  everybody  is  made  by  my  master :  there 
is  not  a  freer-spoken  gentleman,  or  a  better  beloved,  high 
or  low,  in  all  Ireland." 

And  of  what  passed  after  this  I'm  not  sensible,  for  we 
drank  Sir  Condy's  good  health  and  the  downfall  of  his 
enemies  till  we  could  stand  no  longer  ourselves.  And 
little  did  I  think  at  the  time,  or  till  long  after,  how  I  was 
harbouring  my  poor  master's  greatest  of  enemies  myself. 
This  fellow  had  the  impudence,  after  coming  to  see  the 

39 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

chicken-yard,  to  get  me  to  introduce  him  to  my  son  Jason; 
little  more  than  the  man  that  never  was  born  did  I  guess 
at  his  meaning  by  this  visit :  he  gets  him  a  correct  list 
fairly  drawn  out  from  my  son  Jason  of  all  my  master's 
debts,  and  goes  straight  round  to  the  creditors  and  buys 
them  all  up,  which  he  did  easy  enough,  seeing  the  half  of 
them  never  expected  to  see  their  money  out  of  Sir  Condy's 
hands.  Then,  when  this  base-minded  limb  of  the  law,  as 
I  afterwards  detected  him  in  being,  grew  to  be  sole  creditor 
over  all,  he  takes  him  out  a  custodiam  on  all  the  denomina- 
tions and  sub-denominations,  and  even  carton  *  and  half- 
carton  upon  the  estate;  and  not  content  with  that,  must 
have  an  execution  against  the  master's  goods  and  down  to 
the  furniture,  though  little  worth,  of  Castle  Rackrent  itself. 
But  this  is  a  part  of  my  story  I'm  not  come  to  yet,  and  it's 
bad  to  be  forestalling:  ill  news  flies  fast  enough  all  the 
world  over. 

To  go  back  to  the  day  of  the  election,  which  I  never 
think  of  but  with  pleasure  and  tears  of  gratitude  for  those 
good  times:  after  the  election  was  quite  and  clean  over, 
there  comes  shoals  of  people  from  all  parts,  claiming  to 
have  obliged  my  master  with  their  votes,  and  putting  him 
in  mind  of  promises  which  he  could  never  remember  him- 
self to  have  made :  one  was  to  have  a  freehold  for  each  of 
his  four  sons ;  another  was  to  have  a  renewal  of  a  lease ; 
another  an  abatement ;  one  came  to  be  paid  ten  guineas 
for  a  pair  of  silver  buckles  sold  my  master  on  the  hustings, 
which  turned  out  to  be  no  better  than  copper  gilt ;  another 
had  a  long  bill  for  oats,  the  half  of  which  never  went  into 
the  granary  to  my  certain  knowledge,  and  the  other  half 
was  not  fit  for  the  cattle  to  touch ;  but  the  bargain  was 
made  the  week  before  the  election,  and  the  coach  and 
saddle-horses  were  got  into  order  for  the  day,  besides  a 
vote  fairly  got  by  them  oats ;  so  no  more  reasoning  on  that 
head.  But  then  there  was  no  end  to  them  that  were  tell- 
ing Sir  Condy  he  had  engaged  to  make  their  sons  excise- 
men, or  high  constables,  or  the  like;  and  as  for  them  that 
had  bills  to  give  in  for  liquor,  and  beds,  and  straw,  and 

'  See  Glossary. 
40 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

ribands,  and  horses,  and  post-chaises  for  the  gentlemen 
freeholders  that  came  from  all  parts  and  other  counties  to 
vote  for  my  master,  and  were  not,  to  be  sure,  to  be  at  any 
charges,  there  was  no  standing  against  all  these ;  and,  worse 
than  all,  the  gentlemen  of  my  master's  committee,  who 
managed  all  for  him,  and  talked  how  they'd  bring  him  in 
without  costing  him  a  penny,  and  subscribed  by  hundreds 
very  genteelly,  forgot  to  pay  their  subscriptions,  and  had 
laid  out  in  agents'  and  lawyers'  fees  and  secret  service 
money  to  the  Lord  knows  how  much  ;  and  my  master  could 
never  ask  one  of  them  for  their  subscription  you  are  sensi- 
ble, nor  for  the  price  of  a  fine  horse  he  had  sold  one  of 
them ;  so  it  all  was  left  at  his  door.  He  could  never,  God 
bless  him  again !  I  say,  bring  himself  to  ask  a  gentleman 
for  money,  despising  such  sort  of  conversation  himself;  but 
others,  who  were  not  gentlemen  born,  behaved  very  uncivil 
in  pressing  him  at  this  very  time,  and  all  he  could  do  to 
content  'em  all  was  to  take  himself  out  of  the  way  as  fast 
as  possible  to  Dublin,  where  my  lady  had  taken  a  house 
fitting  for  him  as  a  member  of  Parliament,  to  attend  his 
duty  in  there  all  the  winter.  I  was  very  lonely  when  the 
whole  family  was  gone,  and  all  the  things  they  had  ordered 
to  go,  and  forgot,  sent  after  them  by  the  car.  There  was 
then  a  great  silence  in  Castle  Rackrent,  and  I  went  moping 
from  room  to  room,  hearing  the  doors  clap  for  want  of 
right  locks,  and  the  wind  through  the  broken  windows, 
that  the  glazier  never  would  come  to  mend,  and  the  rain 
coming  through  the  roof  and  best  ceilings  all  over  the 
house  for  want  of  the  slater,  whose  bill  was  not  paid,  be- 
sides our  having  no  slates  or  shingles  for  that  part  of  the 
old  building  which  was  shingled  and  burnt  when  the  chim- 
ney took  fire,  and  had  been  open  to  the  weather  ever  since. 
I  took  myself  to  the  servants'  hall  in  the  evening  to  smoke 
my  pipe  as  usual,  but  missed  the  bit  of  talk  we  used  to 
have  there  sadly,  and  ever  after  was  content  to  stay  in  the 
kitchen  and  boil  my  little  potatoes,'  and  put  up  my  bed 

'  My  little  potatoes. — Thady  does  not  mean  by  this  expression  that  his 
potatoes  were  less  than  other  people's,  or  less  than  the  usual  size.  Little  is 
here  used  only  as  an  Italian  diminutive,  expressive  of  fondness. 

41 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

there,  and  every  post-day  I  looked  in  the  newspaper,  but 
no  news  of  my  master  in  the  House;  he  never  spoke  good 
or  bad,  but,  as  the  butler  wrote  down  word  to  my  son 
Jason,  was  very  ill-used  by  the  Government  about  a  place 
that  was  promised  him  and  never  given,  after  his  support- 
ing them  against  his  conscience  very  honourably,  and  being 
greatly  abused  for  it,  which  hurt  him  greatly,  he  having 
the  name  of  a  great  patriot  in  the  country  before.  The 
house  and  living  in  Dublin  too  were  not  to  be  had  for 
nothing,  and  my  son  Jason  said,  "Sir  Condy  must  soon 
be  looking  out  for  a  new  agent,  for  I've  done  my  part,  and 
can  do  no  more.  If  my  lady  had  the  bank  of  Ireland  to 
spend,  it  would  go  all  in  one  winter,  and  Sir  Condy  would 
never  gainsay  her,  though  he  does  not  care  the  rind  of  a 
lemon  for  her  all  the  while. 

Now  I  could  not  bear  to  hear  Jason  giving  out  after  this 
manner  against  the  family,  and  twenty  people  standing  by 
in  the  street.  Ever  since  he  had  lived  at  the  Lodge  of  his 
own  he  looked  down,  howsomever,  upon  poor  old  Thady, 
and  was  grown  quite  a  great  gentleman,  and  had  none  of 
his  relations  near  him  ;  no  wonder  he  was  no  kinder  to  poor 
Sir  Condy  than  to  his  own  kith  or  kin.'  In  the  spring  it 
was  the  villain  that  got  the  list  of  the  debts  from  him 
brought  down  the  custodiam,  Sir  Condy  still  attending  his 
duty  in  Parliament ;  and  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  own 
old  eyes,  or  the  spectacles  with  which  I  read  it,  when  I  was 
shown  my  son  Jason's  name  joined  in  the  custodiam;  but 
he  told  me  it  was  only  for  form's  sake,  and  to  make  things 
easier  than  if  all  the  land  was  under  the  power  of  a  total 
stranger.  Well,  I  did  not  know  what  to  think;  it  was  hard 
to  be  talking  ill  of  my  own,  and  I  could  not  but  grieve  for 
my  poor  master's  fine  estate,  all  torn  by  these  vultures  of 
the  law;  so  I  said  nothing,  but  just  looked  on  to  see  how 
it  would  all  end. 

It  was  not  till  the  month  of  June  that  he  and  my  lady 
came  down  to  the  country.  My  master  was  pleased  to 
take  me  aside  with  him  to  the  brewhouse  that  same  evening, 

'  Kith  and  kiti  :  family  or  relations.  Kin  from  kind ;  kith  from  we  know 
not  what. 

42 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

to  complain  to  me  of  my  son  and  other  matters,  in  which 
he  said  he  was  confident  I  had  neither  art  nor  part ;  he  said 
a  great  deal  more  to  me,  to  whom  he  had  been  fond  to  talk 
ever  since  he  was  my  white-headed  boy  before  he  came  to 
the  estate;  and  all  that  he  said  about  poor  Judy  I  can 
never  forget,  but  scorn  to  repeat.  He  did  not  say  an  un- 
kind word  of  my  lady,  but  wondered,  as  well  he  might,  her 
relations  would  do  nothing  for  him  or  her,  and  they  in  all 
this  great  distress.  He  did  not  take  anything  long  to 
heart,  let  it  be  as  it  would,  and  had  no  more  malice  or 
thought  of  the  like  in  him  than  a  child  that  can't  speak; 
this  night  it  was  all  out  of  his  head  before  he  went  to  his 
bed.  He  took  his  jug  of  whisky-punch — my  lady  was  grown 
quite  easy  about  the  whisky-punch  by  this  time,  and  so  I 
did  suppose  all  was  going  on  right  betwixt  them,  till  I 
learnt  the  truth  through  Mrs.  Jane,  who  talked  over  the 
affairs  to  the  housekeeper,  and  I  within  hearing.  The 
night  my  master  came  home,  thinking  of  nothing  at  all  but 
just  making  merry,  he  drank  his  bumper  toast  "to  the  de- 
serts of  that  old  curmudgeon  my  father-in-law,  and  all 
enemies  at  Mount  Juliet's  Town,"  Now  my  lady  was 
no  longer  in  the  mind  she  formerly  was,  and  did  noways 
relish  hearing  her  own  friends  abused  in  her  presence,  she 
said. 

"Then  why  don't  they  show  themselves  your  friends," 
said  my  master,  "and  oblige  me  with  the  loan  of  the  money 
1  condescended,  by  your  advice,  my  dear,  to  ask?  It's  now 
three  posts  since  I  sent  off  my  letter,  desiring  in  the  post- 
script a  speedy  answer  by  the  return  of  the  post,  and  no 
account  at  all  from  them  yet," 

"I  expect  they'll  write  to  inc  next  post,"  says  my  lady, 
and  that  was  all  that  passed  then ;  but  it  was  easy  from 
this  to  guess  there  was  a  coolness  betwixt  them,  and  with 
good  cause. 

The  next  morning,  being  post-day,  I  sent  off  the  gos- 
soon early  to  the  post-office,  to  see  was  there  any  letter 
likely  to  set  matters  to  rights,  and  he  brought  back  one 
with  the  proper  post-mark  upon  it,  sure  enough,  and  I  had 
no  time  to  examine  or  make  any  conjecture  more  about  it, 

43 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

for  into  the  servants'  hall  pops  Mrs.  Jane  with  a  blue  band- 
box in  her  hand,  quite  entirely  mad. 

"Dear  ma'am,  and  what's  the  matter?"  says  I. 

"Matter  enough,"  says  she;  "don't  you  see  my  band- 
box is  wet  through,  and  my  best  bonnet  here  spoiled,  be- 
sides my  lady's,  and  all  by  the  rain  coming  in  through  that 
gallery  window  that  you  might  have  got  mended  if  you'd 
had  any  sense,  Thady,  all  the  time  we  were  in  town  in  the 
winter? " 

"Sure,  I  could  not  get  the  glazier,  ma'am,"  says  I. 

"You  might  have  stopped  it  up  anyhow,"  says  she. 

"So  I  did,  ma'am,  to  the  best  of  my  ability;  one  of  the 
panes  with  the  old  pillow-case,  and  the  other  with  a  piece 
of  the  old  stage  green  curtain.  Sure  I  was  as  careful  as 
possible  all  the  time  you  were  away,  and  not  a  drop  of  rain 
came  in  at  that  window  of  all  the  windows  in  the  house,  all 
winter,  ma'am,  when  under  my  care;  and  now  the  family's 
come  home,  and  it's  summer-time,  I  never  thought  no 
more  about  it,  to  be  sure;  but  dear,  it's  a  pity  to  think  of 
your  bonnet,  ma'am.  But  here's  what  will  please  you, 
ma'am — a  letter  from  Mount  Juliet's  Town  for  my  lady. 

With  that  she  snatches  it  from  me  without  a  word  more, 
and  runs  up  the  back  stairs  to  my  mistress ;  I  follows  with 
a  slate  to  make  up  the  window.  This  window  was  in  the 
long  passage — or  gallery,  as  my  lady  gave  out  orders  to  have 
it  called — in  the  gallery  leading  to  my  master's  bedchamber 
and  hers.  And  when  I  went  up  with  the  slate,  the  door 
having  no  lock,  and  the  bolt  spoilt,  was  ajar  after  Mrs. 
Jane,  and,  as  I  was  busy  with  the  window,  I  heard  all  that 
was  saying  within. 

"Well,  what's  in  your  letter,  Bella,  my  dear?"  says  he: 
"you're  a  long  time  spelling  it  over." 

"Won't  you  shave  this  morning.  Sir  Condy?"  says  she, 
and  put  the  letter  into  her  pocket. 

"I  shaved  the  day  before  yesterday,"  said  he,  "my  dear, 
and  that's  not  what  I'm  thinking  of  now;  but  anything  to 
oblige  you,  and  to  have  peace  and  quietness,  my  dear" — 
and  presently  I  had  a  glimpse  of  him  at  the  cracked  glass 
over  the  chimney-piece,  standing  up  shaving  himself  to 

44 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

please  my  lady.  But  she  took  no  notice,  but  went  on 
reading  her  book,  and  Mrs.  Jane  doing  her  hair  behind. 

"What  is  it  you're  reading  there,  my  dear? — phqo,  I've 
cut  myself  with  this  razor ;  the  man's  a  cheat  that  sold  it 
me,  but  I  have  not  paid  him  for  it  yet.  What  is  it  you're 
reading  there?     Did  you  hear  me  asking  you,  my  dear?  " 

The  Sorrows  of  Werter, ' '  replies  my  lady,  as  well  as  I 
could  hear. 

"I  think  more  of  the  sorrows  of  Sir  Condy,"  says  my 
master,  joking  like.  "What  news  from  Mount  Juliet's 
Town? " 

No  news, ' '  says  she,  ' '  but  the  old  story  over  again  ;  my 
friends  all  reproaching  me  still  for  what  I  can't  help  now." 

"Is  it  for  marrying  me?"  said  my  master,  still  shaving. 
"What  signifies,  as  you  say,  talking  of  that,  when  it  can't 
be  help'd  now? " 

With  that  she  heaved  a  great  sigh  that  I  heard  plain 
enough  in  the  passage. 

"And  did  not  you  use  me  basely.  Sir  Condy,"  says  she, 
"not  to  tell  me  you  were  ruined  before  I  married  you? " 

"Tell  you,  my  dear!  "  said  he.  "Did  you  ever  ask  me 
one  word  about  it  ?  And  had  not  you  friends  enough  of 
your  own,  that  were  telling  you  nothing  else  from  morning 
to  night,  if  you'd  have  listened  to  them  slanders? " 

"No  slanders,  nor  are  my  friends  slanderers ;  and  I  can't 
bear  to  hear  them  treated  with  disrespect  as  I  do,"  says 
my  lady,  and  took  out  her  pocket-handkerchief;  "they  are 

the  best  of  friends,  and  if  I  had  taken  their  advice 

But  my  father  was  wrong  to  lock  me  up,  I  own.  That 
was  the  only  unkind  thing  I  can  charge  him  with ;  for  if  he 
had  not  locked  me  up,  I  should  never  have  had  a  serious 
thought  of  running  away  as  I  did." 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  my  master,  "don't  cry  and  make 
yourself  uneasy  about  it  now,  when  it's  all  over,  and  you 
have  the  man  of  your  own  choice,  in  spite  of  'em  all." 

"I  was  too  young,  I  know,  to  make  a  choice  at  the  time 
you  ran  away  with  me,  I'm  sure,"  says  my  lady,  and 
another  sigh,  which  made  my  master,  half-shaved  as  he 
was,  turn  round  upon  her  in  surprise. 

45 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

"Why,  Bell,"  says  he, "you  can't  deny  what  you  know 
as  well  as  I  do,  that  it  was  at  your  own  particular  desire, 
and  that  twice  under  your  own  hand  and  seal  expressed, 
that  I  should  carry  you  off  as  I  did  to  Scotland,  and  marry 
you  there." 

"Well,  say  no  more  about  it.  Sir  Condy,"  said  my  lady, 
pettish-like;  "I  was  a  child  then,  you  know." 

"And  as  far  as  I  know,  you're  little  better  now,  my 
dear  Bella,  to  be  talking  in  this  manner  to  your  husband's 
face;  but  I  won't  take  it  ill  of  you,  for  I  know  it's  some- 
thing in  that  letter  you  put  into  your  pocket  just  now  that 
has  set  you  against  me  all  on  a  sudden,  and  imposed  upon 
your  understanding." 

"It's  not  so  very  easy  as  you  think  it,  Sir  Condy,  to  im- 
pose upon  my  understanding,"  said  my  lady. 

"My  dear,"  says  he,  "I  have,  and  with  reason,  the  best 
opinion  of  your  understanding  of  any  man  now  breathing; 
and  you  know  I  have  never  set  my  own  in  competition 
with  it  till  now,  my  dear  Bella,"  says  he,  taking  her  hand 
from  her  book  as  kind  as  could  be — "till  now,  when  I  have 
the  great  advantage  of  being  quite  cool,  and  you  not;  so 
don't  believe  one  word  your  friends  say  against  your  own 
Sir  Condy,  and  lend  me  the  letter  out  of  your  pocket,  till 
I  see  what  it  is  they  can  have  to  say." 

"Take  it  then,"  says  she;  "and  as  you  are  quite  cool, 
I  hope  it  is  a  proper  time  to  request  you'll  allow  me  to 
comply  with  the  wishes  of  all  my  own  friends,  and  return 
to  live  with  my  father  and  family,  during  the  remainder  of 
my  wretched  existence,  at  Mount  Juliet's  Town." 

At  this  my  poor  master  fell  back  a  few  paces,  like  one 
that  had  been  shot. 

"You're  not  serious,  Bella,"  says  he;  "and  could  you 
find  it  in  your  heart  to  leave  me  this  way  in  the  very 
middle  of  my  distresses,  all  alone?  "  But  recollecting  him- 
self after  his  first  surprise,  and  a  moment's  time  for  reflec- 
tion, he  said,  with  a  great  deal  of  consideration  for  my 
lady,  "Well,  Bella,  my  dear,  I  believe  you  are  right;  for 
what  could  you  do  at  Castle  Rackrent,  and  an  execution 
against  the  goods  coming  down,  and  the  furniture  to  be 

46 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

canted,  and  an  auction  in  the  house  all  next  week?  So 
you  have  my  full  consent  to  go,  since  that  is  your  desire; 
only  you  must  not  think  of  my  accompanying  you,  which 
I  could  not  in  honour  do  upon  the  terms  I  always  have 
been,  since  our  marriage,  with  your  friends.  Besides,  I 
have  business  to  transact  at  home ;  so  in  the  meantime,  if 
we  are  to  have  any  breakfast  this  morning,  let  us  go  down 
and  have  it  for  the  last  time  in  peace  and  comfort,  Bella." 

Then  as  I  heard  my  master  coming  to  the  passage  door, 
I  finished  fastening  up  my  slate  against  the  broken  pane; 
and  when  he  came  out  I  wiped  down  the  window-seat  with 
my  wig,'  and  bade  him  a  "good-morrow"  as  kindly  as  I 
could,  seeing  he  was  in  trouble,  though  he  strove  and 
thought  to  hide  it  from  me. 

"This  window  is  all  racked  and  tattered,"  says  I,  "and 
it's  what  I'm  striving  to  mend." 

"It  is  all  racked  and  tattered,  plain  enough,"  says  he, 
"and  nevermind  mending  it,  honest  old  Thady, "  says  he; 
"it  will  do  well  enough  for  you  and  I,  and  that's  all  the 
company  we  shall  have  left  in  the  house  by  and  by." 

"I'm  sorry  to  see  your  honour  so  low  this  morning," 
says  I ;  "but  you'll  be  better  after  taking  your  breakfast." 

"Step  down  to  the  servants'  hall,"  said  he,  "and  bring 
me  up  the  pen  and  ink  into  the  parlour,  and  get  a  sheet 
of  paper  from  Mrs.  Jane,  for  I  have  business  that  can't 
brook  to  be  delayed ;  and  come  into  the  parlour  with  the 
pen  and  ink  yourself,  Thady,  for  I  must  have  you  to  wit- 
ness-my  signing  a  paper  I  have  to  execute  in  a  hurry." 

Well,  while  I  was  getting  of  the  pen  and  ink-horn,  and 
the  sheet  of  paper,  I  ransacked  my  brains  to  think  what 

'  Wigs  were  formerly  used  instead  of  brooms  in  Ireland  for  sweeping  or 
dusting  tables,  stairs,  etc.  The  Editor  doubted  the  fact  till  he  saw  a  labourer 
of  the  old  school  sweep  down  a  flight  of  stairs  with  his  wig  ;  he  afterwards  put 
it  on  his  head  again  with  the  utmost  composure,  and  said,  "  Oh,  please  your 
honour,  it 's  never  a  bit  the  worse." 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  these  men  are  not  in  any  danger  of  catching 
cold  by  taking  off  their  wigs  occasionally,  because  they  usually  have  fine  crops 
of  hair  growing  under  their  wigs.  The  wigs  are  often  yellow,  and  the  hair 
which  appears  from  beneath  them  black  ;  the  wigs  are  usually  too  small,  and 
are  raised  up  by  the  hair  beneath,  or  by  the  ears  of  the  wearers. 

47 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

could  be  the  papers  my  poor  master  could  have  to  execute 
in  such  a  hurry,  he  that  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as 
doing  business  afore  breakfast  in  the  whole  course  of  his 
life,  for  any  man  living;  but  this  was  for  my  lady,  as  I 
afterwards  found,  and  the  more  genteel  of  him  after  all  her 
treatment. 

I  was  just  witnessing  the  paper  that  he  had  scrawled 
over,  and  was  shaking  the  ink  out  of  my  pen  upon  the 
carpet,  when  my  lady  came  in  to  breakfast,  and  she  started 
as  if  it  had  been  a  ghost ;  as  well  she  might,  when  she  saw 
Sir  Condy  writing  at  this  unseasonable  hour. 

"That  will  do  very  well,  Thady,"  says  he  to  me,  and 
took  the  paper  I  had  signed  to,  without  knowing  what 
upon  the  earth  it  might  be,  out  of  my  hands,  and  walked, 
folding  it  up,  to  my  lady. 

"You  are  concerned  in  this,  my  Lady  Rackrent,"  said 
he,  putting  it  into  her  hands;  "and  I  beg  you'll  keep  this 
memorandum  safe,  and  show  it  to  your  friends  the  first 
thing  you  do  when  you  get  home;  but  put  it  in  your 
pocket  now,  my  dear,  and  let  us  eat  our  breakfast,  in  God's 
name." 

"What  is  all  this?"  said  my  lady,  opening  the  paper  in 
great  curiosity. 

"It's  only  a  bit  of  a  memorandum  of  what  I  think  be- 
comes me  to  do  whenever  I  am  able,"  says  my  master; 
"you  know  my  situation,  tied  hand  and  foot  at  the  present 
time  being,  but  that  can't  last  always,  and  when  I'm  dead 
and  gone  the  land  will  be  to  the  good,  Thady,  you  know ; 
and  take  notice  it's  my  intention  your  lady  should  have  a 
clear  five  hundred  a  year  jointure  off  the  estate  afore  any 
of  my  debts  are  paid." 

"Oh,  please  your  honour,"  says  I,  "I  can't  expect  to 
live  to  see  that  time,  being  now  upwards  of  fourscore  years 
of  age,  and  you  a  young  man,  and  likely  to  continue  so, 
by  the  help  of  God." 

I  was  vexed  to  see  my  lady  so  insensible  too,  for  all  she 
said  was,  "This  is  very  genteel  of  you,  Sir  Condy,  You 
need  not  wait  any  longer,  Thady."  So  I  just  picked  up 
the  pen  and  ink  that  had  tumbled  on  the  floor,  and  heard 

48 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

my  master  finish  with  saying,  "You  behaved  very  genteel 
to  me,  my  dear,  when  you  threw  all  the  little  you  had  in 
your  power  along  with  yourself  into  my  hands;  and  as  I 
don't  deny  but  what  you  may  have  had  some  things  to 
complain  of," — to  be  sure  he  was  thinking  then  of  Judy, 
or  of  the  whisky-punch,  one  or  t'other,  or  both, — -"and  as 
I  don't  deny  but  you  may  have  had  something  to  complain 
of,  my  dear,  it  is  but  fair  you  should  have  something  in  the 
form  of  compensation  to  look  forward  to  agreeably  in 
future;  besides,  it's  an  act  of  justice  to  myself,  that  none 
of  your  friends,  my  dear,  may  ever  have  it  to  say  against 
me,  I  married  for  money,  and  not  for  love." 

"That  is  the  last  thing  I  should  ever  have  thought  of 
saying  of  you,  Sir  Condy,"  said  my  lady,  looking  very 
gracious. 

"Then,  my  dear,"  said  Sir  Condy,  "we  shall  part  as 
good  friends  as  we  met;  so  all's  right." 

I  was  greatly  rejoiced  to  hear  this,  and  went  out  of  the 
parlour  to  report  it  all  to  the  kitchen.  The  next  morning 
my  lady  and  Mrs.  Jane  set  out  for  Mount  Juliet's  Town  in 
the  jaunting-car.  Many  wondered  at  my  lady's  choosing 
to  go  away,  considering  all  things,  upon  the  jaunting-car, 
as  if  it  was  only  a  party  of  pleasure ;  but  they  did  not  know 
till  I  told  them  that  the  coach  was  all  broke  in  the  journey 
down,  and  no  other  vehicle  but  the  car  to  be  had.  Be- 
sides, my  lady's  friends  were  to  send  their  coach  to  meet 
her  at  the  cross-roads ;  so  it  was  all  done  very  proper. 

My  poor  master  was  in  great  trouble  after  my  lady  left 
us.  The  execution  came  down,  and  everything  at  Castle 
Rackrent  was  seized  by  the  gripers,  and  my  son  Jason,  to 
his  shame  be  it  spoken,  amongst  them.  I  wondered,  for 
the  life  of  me,  how  he  could  harden  himself  to  do  it ;  but 
then  he  had  been  studying  the  law,  and  had  made  himself 
Attorney  Quirk;  so  he  brought  down  at  once  a  heap  of 
accounts  upon  my  master's  head.  To  cash  lent,  and  to 
ditto,  and  to  ditto,  and  to  ditto  and  oats,  and  bills  paid  at 
the  milliner's  and  linen-draper's,  and  many  dresses  for  the 
fancy  balls  in  Dublin  for  my  lady,  and  all  the  bills  to  the 
workmen  and  tradesmen  for  the  scenery  of  the  theatre, 

4  49 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

and  the  chandler's  and  grocer's  bills,  and  tailor's,  besides 
butcher's  and  baker's,  and,  worse  than  all,  the  old  one  of 
that  base  wine  merchant's,  that  wanted  to  arrest  my  poor 
master  for  the  amount  on  the  election  day,  for  which 
amount  Sir  Condy  afterwards  passed  his  note  of  hand, 
bearing  lawful  interest  from  the  date  thereof;  and  the  in- 
terest and  compound  interest  was  now  mounted  to  a  terrible 
deal  on  many  other  notes  and  bonds  for  money  borrowed, 
and  there  was,  besides,  hush-money  to  the  sub-sheriffs,  and 
sheets  upon  sheets  of  old  and  new  attorneys'  bills,  with 
heavy  balances, ' '  as  per  former  account  furnished, ' '  brought 
forward  with  interest  thereon ;  then  there  was  a  powerful 
deal  due  to  the  Crown  for  sixteen  years'  arrear  of  quit-rent 
of  the  town-lands  of  Carrickashaughlin,  with  driver's  fees, 
and  a  compliment  to  the  receiver  every  year  for  letting  the 
quit-rent  run  on  to  oblige  Sir  Condy,  and  Sir  Kit  afore  him. 
Then  there  were  bills  for  spirits  and  ribands  at  the  election 
time,  and  the  gentlemen  of  the  committee's  accounts  un- 
settled, and  their  subscription  never  gathered ;  and  there 
were  cows  to  be  paid  for,  with  the  smith  and  farrier's  bills 
to  be  set  against  the  rent  of  the  demesne,  with  calf  and  hay 
money ;  then  there  was  all  the  servants'  wages,  since  I 
don't  know  when,  coming  due  to  them,  and  sums  ad- 
vanced for  them  by  my  son  Jason  for  clothes,  and  boots, 
and  whips,  and  odd  moneys  for  sundries  expended  by  them 
in  journeys  to  town  and  elsewhere,  and  pocket-money  for 
the  master  continually,  and  messengers  and  postage  before 
his  being  a  Parliament  man.  I  can't  myself  tell  you  what 
besides;  but  this  I  know,  that  when  the  evening  came  on 
the  which  Sir  Condy  had  appointed  to  settle  all  with  my 
son  Jason,  and  when  he  comes  into  the  parlour,  and  sees 
the  sight  of  bills  and  load  of  papers  all  gathered  on  the 
great  dining-table  for  him,  he  puts  his  hands  before  both 
his  eyes,  and  cried  out,  "Merciful  Jasus !  what  is  it  I  see  be- 
fore me?"  Then  I  sets  an  arm-chair  at  the  table  for  him, 
and  with  a  deal  of  difificulty  he  sits  him  down,  and  my  son 
Jason  hands  him  over  the  pen  and  ink  to  sign  to  this  man's 
bill  and  t'other  man's  bill,  all  which  he  did  without  making 
the  least  objections.     Indeed,  to  give  him  his  due,  I  never 

50 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

seen  a  man  more  fair  and  honest,  and  easy  in  all  his  deal- 
ings, from  first  to  last,  as  Sir  Condy,  or  more  willing  to 
pay  every  man  his  own  as  far  as  he  was  able,  which  is  as 
much  as  any  one  can  do. 

"Well,"  says  he,  joking  like  with  Jason,  "I  wish  we 
could  settle  it  all  with  a  stroke  of  my  grey  goose  quill. 
What  signifies  making  me  wade  through  all  this  ocean  of 
papers  here;  can't  you  now,  who  understand  drawing  out 
an  account,  debtor  and  creditor,  just  sit  down  here  at  the 
corner  of  the  table  and  get  it  done  out  for  me,  that  I  may 
have  a  clear  view  of  the  balance,  which  is  all  I  need  be 
talking  about,  you  know?" 

"Very  true.  Sir  Condy;  nobody  understands  business 
better  than  yourself,"  says  Jason. 

"So  I've  a  right  to  do,  being  born  and  bred  to  the  bar," 
says  Sir  Condy.  "Thady,  do  step  out  and  see  are  they 
bringing  in  the  things  for  the  punch,  for  we've  just  done 
all  we  have  to  do  for  this  evening." 

I  goes  out  accordingly,  and  when  I  came  back  Jason  was 
pointing  to  the  balance,  which  was  a  terrible  sight  to  my 
poor  master. 

"Pooh!  pooh!  pooh!"  says  he.  "Here's  so  many 
noughts  they  dazzle  my  eyes,  so  they  do,  and  put  me  in 
mind  of  all  I  suffered  larning  of  my  numeration  table, 
when  I  was  a  boy  at  the  day-school  along  with  you,  Jason 
— units,  tens,  hundreds,  tens  of  hundreds.  Is  the  punch 
ready,  Thady?"  says  he,  seeing  me. 

"Immediately;  the  boy  has  the  jug  in  his  hand;  it's 
coming  upstairs,  please  your  honour,  as  fast  as  possible," 
says  I,  for  I  saw  his  honour  was  tired  out  of  his  life;  but 
Jason,  very  short  and  cruel,  cuts  me  off  with — "Don't  be 
talking  of  punch  yet  awhile;  it's  no  time  for  punch  yet  a 
bit — units,  tens,  hundreds,"  goes  he  on,  counting  over 
the  master's  shoulder,  units,  tens,  hundreds,  thousands. 

"A-a-ah!  hold  your  hand,"  cries  my  master.  "Where 
in  this  wide  world  am  I  to  find  hundreds,  or  units  itself,  let 
alone  thousands?" 

"The  balance  has  been  running  on  too  long,"  says  Jason, 
sticking  to  him  as  I  could  not  have  done  at  the  time,  if 

51 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

you'd  have  given  both  the  Indies  and  Cork  to  boot;  "the 
balance  has  been  running  on  too  long,  and  I'm  distressed 
myself  on  your  account,  Sir  Condy,  for  money,  and  the 
thing  must  be  settled  now  on  the  spot,  and  the  balance 
cleared  off,"  says  Jason. 

"I'll  thank  you  if  you'll  only  show  me  how,"  says  Sir 
Condy. 

"There's  but  one  way,"  says  Jason,  "and  that's  ready 
enough.  When  there's  no  cash,  what  can  a  gentleman  do 
but  go  to  the  land?" 

"How  can  you  go  to  the  land,  and  it  under  custodiam 
to  yourself  already?  "  says  Sir  Condy;  "and  another  cus- 
todiam hanging  over  it?  And  no  one  at  all  can  touch  it, 
you  know,  but  the  custodees." 

"Sure,  can't  you  sell,  though  at  a  loss?  Sure  you  can 
sell,  and  I've  a  purchaser  ready  for  you,"  says  Jason. 

"Have  you  so?  "  says  Sir  Condy.  "That's  a  great  point 
gained.  But  there's  a  thing  now  beyond  all,  that  perhaps 
you  don't  know  yet,  barring  Thady  has  let  you  into  the 
secret. ' ' 

"Sarrah  bit  of  a  secret,  or  anything  at  all  of  the  kind, 
has  he  learned  from  me  these  fifteen  weeks  come  St.  John's 
Eve,"  says  I,  "for  we  have  scarce  been  upon  speaking 
terms  of  late.  But  what  is  it  your  honour  means  of  a 
secret? " 

"Why,  the  secret  of  the  little  keepsake  I  gave  my  Lady 
Rackrent  the  morning  she  left  us,  that  she  might  not  go 
back  empty-handed  to  her  friends." 

"My  Lady  Rackrent,  I'm  sure,  has  baubles  and  keep- 
sakes enough,  as  those  bills  on  the  table  will  show,"  says 
Jason;  "but  whatever  it  is,"  says  he,  taking  up  his  pen, 
"we  must  add  it  to  the  balance,  for  to  be  sure  it  can't  be 
paid  for." 

"No,  nor  can't  till  after  my  decease,"  says  Sir  Condy; 
"that's  one  good  thing."  Then  colouring  up  a  good  deal, 
he  tells  Jason  of  the  memorandum  of  the  five  hundred 
a  year  jointure  he  had  settled  upon  my  lady ;  at  which 
Jason  was  indeed  mad,  and  said  a  great  deal  in  very  high 
words,  that  it  was  using  a  gentleman  who  had  the  manage- 

52 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

ment  of  his  affairs,  and  was,  moreover,  his  principal  creditor, 
extremely  ill  to  do  such  a  thing  without  consulting  him, 
and  against  his  knowledge  and  consent.  To  all  which  Sir 
Condy  had  nothing  to  reply,  but  that,  upon  his  conscience, 
it  was  in  a  hurry  and  without  a  moment's  thought  on  his 
part,  and  he  was  very  sorry  for  it,  but  if  it  was  to  do  over 
again  he  would  do  the  same ;  and  he  appealed  to  me,  and 
I  was  ready  to  give  my  evidence,  if  that  would  do,  to  the 
truth  of  all  he  said. 

So  Jason  with  much  ado  was  brought  to  agree  to  a  com- 
promise. 

"The  purchaser  that  I  have  ready,"  says  he,  "will  be 
much  displeased,  to  be  sure,  at  the  encumbrance  on  the 
land,  but  I  must  see  and  manage  him.  Here's  a  deed  ready 
drawn  up;  we  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  put  in  the  con- 
sideration money  and  our  names  to  it." 

"And  how  much  am  I  going  to  sell?  —  the  lands  of 
O'Shaughlin's  Town,  and  the  lands  of  Gruneaghoolaghan, 
and  the  lands  of  Crookaghnawaturgh,"  says  he,  just  reading 
to  himself.  "And — oh,  murder,  Jason!  sure  you  won't 
put  this  in- — -the  castle,  stable,  and  appurtenances  of  Castle 
Rackrent?  " 

"Oh,  murder!  "  says  I,  clapping  my  hands;  "this  is  too 
bad,  Jason." 

"Why  so?  "  said  Jason.  "When  it's  all,  and  a  great  deal 
more  to  the  back  of  it,  lawfully  mine,  was  I  to  push  for  it. ' ' 

"Look  at  him,"  says  I,  pointing  to  Sir  Condy,  who  was 
just  leaning  back  in  his  arm-chair,  with  his  arms  falling 
beside  him  like  one  stupefied;  "is  it  you,  Jason,  that  can 
stand  in  his  presence,  and  recollect  all  he  has  been  to  us, 
and  all  we  have  been  to  him,  and  yet  use  him  so  at  the 
last?" 

"Who  will  you  find  to  use  him  better?  I  ask  you,"  said 
Jason;  "if  he  can  get  a  better  purchaser,  I'm  content;  I 
only  offer  to  purchase,  to  make  things  easy,  and  oblige 
him;  though  I  don't  see  what  compliment  I  am  under,  if 
you  come  to  that.  I  have  never  had,  asked,  or  charged 
more  than  sixpence  in  the  pound,  receiver's  fees,  and 
where  would  he  have  got  an  agent  for  a  penny  less? " 

53 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

"Oh,  Jason!  Jason!  how  will  you  stand  to  this  in  the 
face  of  the  county,  and  all  who  know  you?  "  says  I ;  "and 
what  will  people  think  and  say  when  they  see  you  living 
here  in  Castle  Rackrent,  and  the  lawful  owner  turned  out 
of  the  seat  of  his  ancestors,  without  a  cabin  to  put  his 
head  into,  or  so  much  as  a  potato  to  eat? " 

Jason,  whilst  I  was  saying  this,  and  a  great  deal  more, 
made  me  signs,  and  winks,  and  frowns;  but  I  took  no 
heed,  for  I  was  grieved  and  sick  at  heart  for  my  poor  mas- 
ter, and  couldn't  but  speak. 

"Here's  the  punch,"  says  Jason,  for  the  door  opened; 
"here's  the  punch!  " 

Hearing  that,  my  master  starts  up  in  his  chair,  and  re- 
collects himself,  and  Jason  uncorks  the  whisky. 

"Set  down  the  jug  here,"  says  he,  making  room  for  it 
beside  the  papers  opposite  to  Sir  Condy,  but  still  not  stir- 
ring the  deed  that  was  to  make  over  all. 

Well,  I  was  in  great  hopes  he  had  some  touch  of  mercy 
about  him  when  I  saw  him  making  the  punch,  and  my  mas- 
ter took  a  glass ;  but  Jason  put  it  back  as  he  was  going  to 
fill  again,  saying:  "No,  Sir  Condy,  it  shan't  be  said  of  me 
I  got  your  signature  to  this  deed  when  you  were  half-seas 
over:  you  know  your  name  and  handwriting  in  that  condi- 
tion would  not,  if  brought  before  the  courts,  benefit  me  a 
straw ;  wherefore,  let  us  settle  all  before  we  go  deeper  into 
the  punch-bowl." 

"Settle  all  as  you  will,"  said  Sir  Condy,  clapping  his 
hands  to  his  ears;  "but  let  me  hear  no  more.  I'm  both- 
ered to  death  this  night." 

"You've  only  to  sign,"  said  Jason,  putting  the  pen  to 
him. 

"Take  all,  and  be  content,"  said  my  master.  So  he 
signed ;  and  the  man  who  brought  in  the  punch  witnessed 
it,  for  I  was  not  able,  but  crying  like  a  child ;  and  besides, 
Jason  said,  which  I  was  glad  of,  that  I  was  no  fit  witness, 
being  so  old  and  doting.  It  was  so  bad  with  me,  I  could 
not  taste  a  drop  of  the  punch  itself,  though  my  master 
himself,  God  bless  him  !  in  the  midst  of  his  trouble,  poured 
out  a  glass  for  me,  and  brought  it  up  to  my  lips. 

54 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

"Not  a  drop;  I  thank  your  honour's  honour  as  much  as 
if  I  took  it,  though."  And  I  just  set  down  the  glass  as  it 
was,  and  went  out,  and  when  I  got  to  the  street  door  the 
neighbours'  childer,  who  were  playing  at  marbles  there, 
seeing  me  in  great  trouble,  left  their  play,  and  gathered 
about  me  to  know  what  ailed  me;  and  I  told  them  all,  for 
it  was  a  great  relief  to  me  to  speak  to  these  poor  childer, 
that  seemed  to  have  some  natural  feeling  left  in  them  ;  and 
when  they  were  made  sensible  that  Sir  Condy  was  going  to 
leave  Castle  Rackrent  for  good  and  all,  they  set  up  a  whil- 
laluh  that  could  be  heard  to  the  farthest  end  of  the  street ; 
and  one — fine  boy  he  was — that  my  master  had  given  an 
apple  to  that  morning,  cried  the  loudest ;  but  they  all  were 
the  same  sorry,  for  Sir  Condy  was  greatly  beloved  amongst 
the  childer,  for  letting  them  go  a-nutting  in  the  demesne, 
without  saying  a  word  to  them,  though  my  lady  objected 
to  them.  The  people  in  the  town,  who  were  the  most  of 
them  standing  at  their  doors,  hearing  the  childer  cry,  would 
know  the  reason  of  it ;  and  when  the  report  was  made 
known,  the  people  one  and  all  gathered  in  great  anger 
against  my  son  Jason,  and  terror  at  the  notion  of  his  com- 
ing to  be  landlord  over  them,  and  they  cried,  "No  Jason! 
no  Jason !  Sir  Condy !  Sir  Condy !  Sir  Condy  Rackrent 
for  ever!  "  And  the  mob  grew  so  great  and  so  loud,  I  was 
frightened,  and  made  my  way  back  to  the  house  to  warn 
my  son  to  make  his  escape,  or  hide  himself  for  fear  of  the 
consequences.  Jason  would  not  believe  me  till  they  came 
all  round  the  house,  and  to  the  windows  with  great  shouts. 
Then  he  grew  quite  pale,  and  asked  Sir  Condy  what  had 
he  best  do? 

"I'll  tell  you  what  you  had  best  do,"  said  Sir  Condy, 
who  was  laughing  to  see  his  fright;  "finish  your  glass  first, 
then  let's  go  to  the  window  and  show  ourselves,  and  I'll 
tell  'em — or  you  shall,  if  you  please — that  I'm  going  to  the 
Lodge  for  change  of  air  for  my  health,  and  by  my  own 
desire,  for  the  rest  of  my  days." 

"Do  so,"  said  Jason,  who  never  meant  it  should  have 
been  so,  but  could  not  refuse  him  the  Lodge  at  this  un- 
seasonable time.     Accordingly,   Sir  Condy  threw  up  the 

55 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

sash  and  explained  matters,  and  thanked  all  his  friends, 
and  bid  them  look  in  at  the  punch-bowl,  and  observe  that 
Jason  and  he  had  been  sitting  over  it  very  good  friends ; 
so  the  mob  was  content,  and  he  sent  them  out  some  whisky 
to  drink  his  health,  and  that  was  the  last  time  his  honour's 
health  was  ever  drunk  at  Castle  Rackrent. 

The  very  next  day,  being  too  proud,  as  he  said  to  me, 
to  stay  an  hour  longer  in  a  house  that  did  not  belong  to 
him,  he  sets  off  to  the  Lodge,  and  I  along  with  him  not 
many  hours  after.  And  there  was  great  bemoaning  through 
all  O'Shaughlin's  Town,  which  I  stayed  to  witness,  and 
gave  my  poor  master  a  full  account  of  when  I  got  to  the 
Lodge.  He  was  very  low,  and  in  his  bed,  when  I  got 
there,  and  complained  of  a  great  pain  about  his  heart;  but 
I  guessed  it  was  only  trouble  and  all  the  business,  let  alone 
vexation,  he  had  gone  through  of  late;  and  knowing  the 
nature  of  him  from  a  boy,  I  took  my  pipe,  and  whilst 
smoking  it  by  the  chimney  began  telling  him  how  he  was 
beloved  and  regretted  in  the  county,  and  it  did  him  a  deal 
of  good  to  hear  it. 

"Your  honour  has  a  great  many  friends  yet  that  you 
don't  know  of,  rich  and  poor,  in  the  county,"  says  I ;  "for 
as  I  was  coming  along  the  road  I  met  two  gentlemen  in 
their  own  carriages,  who  asked  after  you,  knowing  me,  and 
wanted  to  know  where  you  was  and  all  about  you,  and 
even  how  old  I  was.     Think  of  that." 

Then  he  wakened  out  of  his  doze,  and  began  questioning 
me  who  the  gentlemen  were.  And  the  next  morning  it 
came  into  my  head  to  go,  unknown  to  anybody,  with  my 
master's  compliments,  round  to  many  of  the  gentlemen's 
houses,  where  he  and  my  lady  used  to  visit,  and  people 
that  I  knew  were  his  great  friends,  and  would  go  to  Cork 
to  serve  him  any  day  in  the  year,  and  I  made  bold  to  try 
to  borrow  a  trifle  of  cash  from  them.  They  all  treated  mc 
very  civil  for  the  most  part,  and  asked  a  great  many  ques- 
tions very  kind  about  my  lady  and  Sir  Condy  and  all  the 
family,  and  were  greatly  surprised  to  learn  from  me  Castle 
Rackrent  was  sold,  and  my  master  at  the  Lodge  for  health  ; 
and  they  all  pitied  him  greatly,  and  he  had  their  good  wishes, 

56 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

if  that  would  do  ;  but  money  was  a  thing  they  unfortunately 
had  not  any  of  them  at  this  time  to  spare.  I  had  my  jour- 
ney for  my  pains,  and  I,  not  used  to  walking,  nor  supple 
as  formerly,  was  greatly  tired,  but  had  the  satisfaction  of 
telling  my  master,  when  I  got  to  the  Lodge,  all  the  civil 
things  said  by  high  and  low. 

"Thady,"  says  he,  "all  you've  been  telling  me  brings  a 
strange  thought  into  my  head.  I've  a  notion  I  shall  not 
be  long  for  this  world  anyhow,  and  I've  a  great  fancy  to 
see  my  own  funeral  afore  I  die."  I  was  greatly  shocked, 
at  the  first  speaking,  to  hear  him  speak  so  light  about  his 
funeral,  and  he  to  all  appearance  in  good  health ;  but  recol- 
lecting myself,  answered : 

"To  be  sure  it  would  be  as  fine  a  sight  as  one  could  see," 
I  dared  to  say,  "and  one  I  should  be  proud  to  witness,"  and 
I  did  not  doubt  his  honour's  would  be  as  great  a  funeral  as 
ever  Sir  Patrick  O'Shaughlin's  was,  and  such  a  one  as  that 
had  never  been  known  in  the  county  afore  or  since.  But 
I  never  thought  he  was  in  earnest  about  seeing  his  own 
funeral  himself  till  the  next  day  he  returns  to  it  again. 

"Thady,"  says  he,  "as  far  as  the  wake'  goes,  sure  I 
might  without  any  great  trouble  have  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  a  bit  of  my  own  funeral." 

"Well,  since  your  honour's  honour's  so  bent  upon  it," 
says  I,  not  willing  to  cross  him,  and  he  in  trouble,  "we 
must  see  what  we  can  do." 

So  he  fell  into  a  sort  of  sham  disorder,  which  was  easy 
done,  as  he  kept  his  bed,  and  no  one  to  see  him ;  and  I 
got  my  shister,  who  was  an  old  woman  very  handy  about 
the  sick,  and  very  skilful,  to  come  up  to  the  Lodge  to  nurse 
him  ;  and  we  gave  out,  she  knowing  no  better,  that  he  was 
just  at  his  latter  end,  and  it  answered  beyond  anything; 
and  there  was  a  great  throng  of  people,  men,  women,  and 
childer,  and  there  being  only  two  rooms  at  the  Lodge, 
except  what  was  locked  up  full  of  Jason's  furniture  and 
things,  the  house  was  soon  as  full  and  fuller  than  it  could 

^  A  "  wake"  in  England  is  a  meeting  avowedly  for  merriment  ;  in  Ireland 
it  is  a  nocturnal  meeting  avowedly  for  the  purpose  of  watching  and  bewailing 
the  dead,  but  in  reality  for  gossiping  and  debauchery.     See  Glossary. 

57 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

hold,  and  the  heat,  and  smoke,  and  noise  wonderful  great; 
and  standing  amongst  them  that  were  near  the  bed,  but 
not  thinking  at  all  of  the  dead,  I  was  startled  by  the  sound 
of  my  master's  voice  from  under  the  greatcoats  that  had 
been  thrown  all  at  top,  and  I  went  close  up,  no  one 
noticing. 

"Thady,"  says  he,  "I've  had  enough  of  this;  I'm 
smothering,  and  can't  hear  a  word  of  all  they're  saying  of 
the  deceased." 

"God  bless  you,  and  lie  still  and  quiet,"  says  I,  "a  bit 
longer,  for  my  shister's  afraid  of  ghosts,  and  would  die  on 
the  spot  with  fright  was  she  to  see  you  come  to  life  all  on 
a  sudden  this  way  without  the  least  preparation." 

So  he  lays  him  still,  though  well  nigh  stifled,  and  I  made 
all  haste  to  tell  the  secret  of  the  joke,  whispering  to  one 
and  t'other,  and  there  was  a  great  surprise,  but  not  so  great 
as  we  had  laid  out  it  would.  "And  aren't  we  to  have  the 
pipes  and  tobacco,  after  coming  so  far  to-night?"  said 
some;  but  they  were  all  well  enough  pleased  when  his 
honour  got  up  to  drink  with  them,  and  sent  for  more 
spirits  from  a  shebeen-house,'  where  they  very  civilly  let 
him  have  it  upon  credit.  So  the  night  passed  ofT  very 
merrily,  but  to  my  mind  Sir  Condy  was  rather  upon  the 
sad  order  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  not  finding  there  had  been 
such  a  great  talk  about  himself  after  his  death  as  he  had 
always  expected  to  hear. 

The  next  morning,  when  the  house  was  cleared  of  them, 
and  none  but  my  shister  and  myself  left  in  the  kitchen  with 
Sir  Condy,  one  opens  the  door  and  walks  in,  and  who 
should  it  be  but  Judy  M 'Quirk  herself!  I  forgot  to  notice 
that  she  had  been  married  long  since,  whilst  young  Cap- 
tain Moneygawl  lived  at  the  Lodge,  to  the  captain's  hunts- 
man, who  after  a  whilst  'listed  and  left  her,  and  was  killed 
in  the  wars.  Poor  Judy  fell  off  greatly  in  her  good  looks 
after  her  being  married  a  year  or  two ;  and  being  smoke- 
dried  in  the  cabin,  and  neglecting  herself  like,  it  was  hard 
for  Sir  Condy  himself  to  know  her  again  till  she  spoke; 

*  "  Shebeen-house,"  a  hedge  alehouse.  Shebeen  properly  means  weak, 
small-beer,  taplash. 

58 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

but  when  she  says,  "It's  Judy  M 'Quirk,  please  your  hon- 
our; don't  you  remember  her?  " 

"Oh,  Judy,  is  it  you?  "  says  his  honour.  "Yes,  sure,  I 
remember  you  very  well;  but  you're  greatly  altered, 
Judy." 

"Sure  it's  time  for  me,"  says  she.  "And  I  think  your 
honour,  since  I  seen  you  last — but  that's  a  great  while  ago 
— is  altered  too." 

"And  with  reason,  Judy,"  says  Sir  Condy,  fetching  a 
sort  of  a  sigh.  "But  how's  this,  Judy?  "  he  goes  on.  "I 
take  it  a  little  amiss  of  you  that  you  were  not  at  my  wake 
last  night." 

"Ah,  don't  be  being  jealous  of  that,"  says  she;  "I  didn't 
hear  a  sentence  of  your  honour's  wake  till  it  was  all  over, 
or  it  would  have  gone  hard  with  me  but  I  would  have  been 
at  it,  sure;  but  I  was  forced  to  go  ten  miles  up  the  country 
three  days  ago  to  a  wedding  of  a  relation  of  my  own's,  and 
didn't  get  home  till  after  the  wake  was  over.  But,"  says 
she,  "it  won't  be  so,  I  hope,  the  next  time,'  please  your 
honour." 

"That  we  shall  see,  Judy,"  says  his  honour,  "and  maybe 
sooner  than  you  think  for,  for  I've  been  very  unwell  this 
while  past,  and  don't  reckon  anyway  I'm  long  for  this 
world." 

At  this  Judy  takes  up  the  corner  of  her  apron,  and  puts 
it  first  to  one  eye  and  then  to  t'other,  being  to  all  appear- 
ance in  great  trouble;  and  my  shister  put  in  her  word,  and 
bid  his  honour  have  a  good  heart,  for  she  was  sure  it  was 
only  the  gout  that  Sir  Patrick  used  to  have  flying  about 
him,  and  he  ought  to  drink  a  glass  or  a  bottle  extraordinary 
to  keep  it  out  of  his  stomach ;  and  he  promised  to  take 
her  advice,  and  sent  out  for  more  spirits  immediately ;  and 
Judy  made  a  sign  to  me,  and  I  went  over  to  the  door  to 
her,  and  she  said,  "I  wonder  to  see  Sir  Condy  so  low:  has 
he  heard  the  news?  " 

"What  news?"  says  I. 

'  At  the  coronation  of  one  of  our  monarchs  the  King  complained  of  the 
confusion  which  happened  in  the  procession.  The  great  officer  who  presided 
told  his  Majesty  that  "  it  should  not  be  so  next  time." 

59 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

"Didn't  ye  hear  it,  then?"  says  she;  "my  Lady  Rack- 
rent  that  was  is  kilt '  and  lying  for  dead,  and  I  don't  doubt 
but  it's  all  over  with  her  by  this  time." 

"Mercy  on  us  all,"  says    I ;  "how  was  it?  " 

"The  jaunting-car  it  was  that  ran  away  with  her,"  says 
Judy.  "I  was  coming  home  that  same  time  from  Biddy 
M'Guggin's  marriage,  and  a  great  crowd  of  people  too  upon 
the  road,  coming  from  the  fair  of  Crookaghnawaturgh,  and 
I  sees  a  jaunting-car  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
and  with  the  two  wheels  off  and  all  tattered.  'What's 
this? '  says  L  'Didn't  ye  hear  of  it? '  says  they  that  were 
looking  on;  'it's  my  Lady  Rackrent's  car,  that  was  run- 
ning away  from  her  husband,  and  the  horse  took  fright  at 
a  carrion  that  lay  across  the  road,  and  so  ran  away  with 
the  jaunting-car,  and  my  Lady  Rackrent  and  her  maid 
screaming,  and  the  horse  ran  with  them  against  a  car  that 
was  coming  from  the  fair  with  the  boy  asleep  on  it,  and  the 
lady's  petticoat  hanging  out  of  the  jaunting-car  caught, 
and  she  was  dragged  I  can't  tell  you  how  far  upon  the 
road,  and  it  all  broken  up  with  the  stones  just  going  to  be 
pounded,  and  one  of  the  road-makers,  with  his  sledge- 
hammer in  his  hand,  stops  the  horse  at  the  last ;  but  my 
Lady  Rackrent  was  all  kilt  and  smashed,^  and  they  lifted 
her  into  a  cabin  hard  by,  and  the  maid  was  found  after 
where  she  had  been  thrown  in  the  gripe  of  a  ditch,  her  cap 
and  bonnet  all  full  of  bog  water,  and  they  say  my  lady 
can't  live  anyway.'  Thady,  pray  now  is  it  true  what  I'm 
told  for  sartain,  that  Sir  Condy  has  made  over  all  to  your 
son  Jason?" 

"All,"  says  I. 

"All  entirely?  "  says  she  again. 

'  See  Glossary. 

*  A7//  and  smashed. — Our  author  is  not  here  guilty  of  an  anti-climax.  The 
mere  English  reader,  from  a  similarity  of  sound  between  the  words  "kilt" 
and  "killed,"  might  be  induced  to  suppose  that  their  meanings  are  similar, 
yet  they  are  not  by  any  means  in  Ireland  synonymous  terms.  Thus  you  may 
hear  a  man  exclaim,  "I'm  kilt  and  murdered  !"  but  he  frequently  means 
only  that  he  has  received  a  black  eye  or  a  slight  contusion.  "  I'm  kilt  all 
over"  means  that  he  is  in  a  worse  state  than  being  simply  "kilt."  Thus, 
"  I'm  kilt  with  the  cold,"  is  nothing  to  "  I'm  kilt  all  over  with  the 
rheumatism." 

60 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

"All  entirely,"  says  I. 

"Then,"  says  she,  "that's  a  great  shame;  but  don't  be 
telling  Jason  what  I  say." 

"And  what  is  it  you  say?  "  cries  Sir  Condy,  leaning  over 
betwixt  us,  which  made  Judy  start  greatly.  "I  know  the 
time  when  Judy  M'Quirk  would  never  have  stayed  so  long 
talking  at  the  door  and  I  in  the  house." 

"Oh!"  says  Judy,  "for  shame,  Sir  Condy;  times  are 
altered  since  then,  and  it's  my  Lady  Rackrent  you  ought 
to  be  thinking  of." 

"And  why  should  I  be  thinking  of  her,  that's  not  think- 
ing of  me  now?  "  says  Sir  Condy. 

"No  matter  for  that,"  says  Judy,  very  properly;  "it's 
time  you  should  be  thinking  of  her,  if  ever  you  mean 
to  do  it  at  all,  for  don't  you  know  she's  lying  for 
death?" 

"My  Lady  Rackrent  I  "  says  Sir  Condy,  in  a  surprise; 
"why  it's  but  two  days  since  we  parted,  as  you  very  well 
know,  Thady,  in  her  full  health  and  spirits,  and  she,  and 
her  maid  along  with  her,  going  to  Mount  Juliet's  Town  on 
her  jaunting-car." 

"She'll  never  ride  no  more  on  her  jaunting-car,"  said 
Judy,  "for  it  has  been  the  death  of  her,  sure  enough." 

"And  is  she  dead  then? "  says  his  honour. 

"As  good  as  dead,  I  hear,"  says  Judy;  "but  there's 
Thady  here  as  just  learnt  the  whole  truth  of  the  story  as  I 
had  it,  and  it's  fitter  he  or  anybody  else  should  be  telling 
it  you  than  I,  Sir  Condy:  I  must  be  going  home  to  the 
childer. " 

But  he  stops  her,  but  rather  from  civility  in  him,  as  I 
could  see  very  plainly,  than  anything  else,  for  Judy  was, 
as  his  honour  remarked  at  her  first  coming  in,  greatly 
changed,  and  little  likely,  as  far  as  I  could  see — though  she 
did  not  seem  to  be  clear  of  it  herself — little  likely  to  be  my 
Lady  Rackrent  now,  should  there  be  a  second  toss-up  to 
be  made.  But  I  told  him  the  whole  story  out  of  the  face, 
just  as  Judy  had  told  it  to  me,  and  he  sent  off  a  messenger 
with  his  compliments  to  Mount  Juliet's  Town  that  evening, 
to  learn  the  truth  of  the  report,  and  Judy  bid  the  boy  that 

6i 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

was  going  call  in  at  Tim  M'Enerney's  shop  in  O'Shaugh- 
lin's  Town  and  buy  her  a  new  shawl. 

"Do  so,"  said  Sir  Condy,  "and  tell  Tim  to  take  no 
money  from  you,  for  I  must  pay  him  for  the  shawl  my- 
self." At  this  my  shister  throws  me  over  a  look,  and  I 
says  nothing,  but  turned  the  tobacco  in  my  mouth,  whilst 
Judy  began  making  a  many  words  about  it,  and  saying 
how  she  could  not  be  beholden  for  shawls  to  any  gentle- 
man. I  left  her  there  to  consult  with  my  shister,  did  she 
think  there  was  anything  in  it,  and  my  shister  thought  I 
was  blind  to  be  asking  her  the  question,  and  I  thought  my 
shister  must  see  more  into  it  than  I  did,  and  recollecting 
all  past  times  and  everything,  I  changed  my  mind,  and 
came  over  to  her  way  of  thinking,  and  we  settled  it  that 
Judy  was  very  like  to  be  my  Lady  Rackrent  after  all,  if  a 
vacancy  should  have  happened. 

The  next  day,  before  his  honour  was  up,  somebody 
comes  with  a  double  knock  at  the  door,  and  I  was  greatly 
surprised  to  see  it  was  my  son  Jason. 

"Jason,  is  it  you?"  said  I;  "what  brings  you  to  the 
Lodge?"  says  L  "Is  it  my  Lady  Rackrent?  We  know 
that  already  since  yesterday." 

"Maybe  so,"  says  he;  "but  I  must  see  Sir  Condy  about 
it." 

"You  can't  see  him  yet,"  says  I ;  "sure  he  is  not  awake." 

"What  then,"  says  he,  "can't  he  be  wakened,  and  I 
standing  at  the  door?  " 

"I'll  not  be  disturbing  his  honour  for  you,  Jason,"  says 
I ;  "many's  the  hour  you've  waited  in  your  time,  and  been 
proud  to  do  it,  till  his  honour  was  at  leisure  to  speak  to 
you.  His  honour,"  says  I,  raising  my  voice,  at  which  his 
honour  wakens  of  his  own  accord,  and  calls  to  me  from  the 
room  to  know  who  it  was  I  was  speaking  to.  Jason  made 
no  more  ceremony,  but  follows  me  into  the  room. 

"How  are  you.  Sir  Condy?"  says  he;  "I'm  happy  to 
see  you  looking  so  well;  I  came  up  to  know  how  you  did 
to-day,  and  to  see  did  you  want  for  anything  at  the  Lodge." 

"Nothing  at  all,  Mr.  Jason,  I  thank  you,"  says  he;  for 
his  honour  had  his  own  share  of  pride,  and  did  not  choose, 

62 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

after  all  that  had  passed,  to  be  beholden,  I  suppose,  to  my 
son;  "but  pray  take  a  chair  and  be  seated,  Mr.  Jason." 

Jason  sat  him  down  upon  the  chest,  for  chair  there  was 
none,  and  after  he  had  set  there  some  time,  and  a  silence 
on  all  sides, 

"What  news  is  there  stirring  in  the  country,  Mr.  Jason 
M'Quirk?  "  says  Sir  Condy,  very  easy,  yet  high  like. 

"None  that's  news  to  you,  Sir  Condy,  I  hear,"  says 
Jason.  "I  am  sorry  to  hear  of  my  Lady  Rackrent's  acci- 
dent." 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  and  so  is  her  ladyship,  I'm 
sure,"  answered  Sir  Condy,  still  stiff;  and  there  was  an- 
other sort  of  a  silence,  which  seemed  to  lie  the  heaviest  on 
my  son  Jason. 

"Sir  Condy,"  says  he  at  last,  seeing  Sir  Condy  disposing 
himself  to  go  to  sleep  again,  "Sir  Condy,  I  daresay  you 
recollect  mentioning  to  me  the  little  memorandum  you 
gave  to  Lady  Rackrent  about  the  ^500  a  year  jointure." 

"Very  true,"  said  Sir  Condy;  "it  is  all  in  my  recollec- 
tion." 

"But  if  my  Lady  Rackrent  dies,  there's  an  end  of  all 
jointure,"  says  Jason. 

"Of  course,"  says  Sir  Condy. 

"But  it's  not  a  matter  of  certainty  that  my  Lady  Rack- 
rent  won't  recover,"  says  Jason. 

"Very  true,  sir,"  says  my  master. 

"It's  a  fair  speculation,  then,  for  you  to  consider  what 
the  chance  of  the  jointure  of  those  lands,  when  out  of 
custodiam,  will  be  to  you." 

"Just  five  hundred  a  year,  I  take  it,  without  any  specu- 
lation at  all,"  said  Sir  Condy. 

"That's  supposing  the  life  dropt,  and  the  custodiam  off, 
you  know;  begging  your  pardon.  Sir  Condy,  who  under- 
stands business,  that  is  a  wrong  calculation." 

"Very  likely  so,"  said  Sir  Condy;  "but,  Mr.  Jason,  if 
you  have  anything  to  say  to  me  this  morning  about  it,  I'd 
be  obliged  to  you  to  say  it,  for  I  had  an  indifferent  night's 
rest  last  night,  and  wouldn't  be  sorry  to  sleep  a  little  this 
morning. ' ' 

63 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

"I  have  only  three  words  to  say,  and  those  more  of  con- 
sequence to  you,  Sir  Condy,  than  me.  You  are  a  little 
cool,  I  observe ;  but  I  hope  you  will  not  be  offended  at 
what  I  have  brought  here  in  my  pocket,"  and  he  pulls  out 
two  long  rolls,  and  showers  down  golden  guineas  upon  the 
bed. 

"What's  this,"  said  Sir  Condy;  "it's  long  since- — "  but 
his  pride  stops  him. 

"All  these  are  your  lawful  property  this  minute,  Sir 
Condy,  if  you  please,"  said  Jason. 

"Not  for  nothing,  I'm  sure,"  said  Sir  Condy,  and  laughs 
a  little,  "Nothing  for  nothing,  or  I'm  under  a  mistake 
with  you,  Jason." 

"Oh,  Sir  Condy,  we'll  not  be  indulging  ourselves  in  any 
unpleasant  retrospects,"  says  Jason;  "it's  my  present  in- 
tention to  behave,  as  I'm  sure  you  will,  like  a  gentleman 
in  this  affair.  Here's  two  hundred  guineas,  and  a  third  I 
mean  to  add  if  you  should  think  proper  to  make  over  to  me 
all  your  right  and  title  to  those  lands  that  you  know  of." 

"I'll  consider  of  it,"  said  my  master;  and  a  great  deal 
more,  that  I  was  tired  listening  to,  was  said  by  Jason,  and 
all  that,  and  the  sight  of  the  ready  cash  upon  the  bed, 
worked  with  his  honour;  and  the  short  and  the  long  of  it 
was,  Sir  Condy  gathered  up  the  golden  guineas,  and  tied 
them  up  in  a  handkerchief,  and  signed  some  paper  Jason 
brought  with  him  as  usual,  and  there  was  an  end  of  the 
business:  Jason  took  himself  away,  and  my  master  turned 
himself  round  and  fell  asleep  again, 

I  soon  found  what  had  put  Jason  in  such  a  hurry  to  con- 
clude this  business.  The  little  gossoon  we  had  sent  off  the 
day  before  with  my  master's  compliments  to  Mount  Juliet's 
Town,  and  to  know  how  my  lady  did  after  her  accident, 
was  stopped  early  this  morning,  coming  back  with  his  an- 
swer through  O'Shaughlin's  Town,  at  Castle  Rackrent,  by 
my  son  Jason,  and  questioned  of  all  he  knew  of  my  lady 
from  the  servant  at  Mount  Juliet's  Town  ;  and  the  gossoon 
told  him  my  Lady  Rackrent  was  not  expected  to  live  over 
night;  so  Jason  thought  it  high  time  to  be  moving  to  the 
Lodge,  to  make  his  bargain  with  my  master  about  the  join- 

64 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

ture  afore  it  should  be  too  late,  and  afore  the  little  gossoon 
should  reach  us  with  the  news.  My  master  was  greatly 
vexed — that  is,  I  may  say,  as  much  as  ever  I  seen  him — 
when  he  found  how  he  had  been  taken  in ;  but  it  was  some 
comfort  to  have  the  ready  cash  for  immediate  consumption 
in  the  house,  anyway. 

And  when  Judy  came  up  that  evening,  and  brought  the 
childer  to  see  his  honour,  he  unties  the  handkerchief,  and 
— God  bless  him !  whether  it  was  little  or  much  he  had, 
'twas  all  the  same  with  him — he  gives  'em  all  round  guineas 
apiece. 

"Hold  up  your  head,"  says  my  shister  to  Judy,  as  Sir 
Condy  was  busy  filling  out  a  glass  of  punch  for  her  eldest 
boy — "Hold  up  your  head,  Judy;  for  who  knows  but  we 
may  live  to  see  you  yet  at  the  head  of  the  Castle  Rackrent 
estate? " 

"Maybe  so,"  says  she,  "but  not  the  way  you  are  think- 
ing of." 

I  did  not  rightly  understand  which  way  Judy  was  looking 
when  she  made  this  speech  till  a  while  after. 

"Why,  Thady,  you  were  telling  me  yesterday  that  Sir 
Condy  had  sold  all  entirely  to  Jason,  and  where  then  does 
all  them  guineas  in  the  handkerchief  come  from?" 

"They  are  the  purchase-money  of  my  lady's  jointure," 
says  I. 

Judy  looks  a  little  bit  puzzled  at  this.  "A  penny  for 
your  thoughts,  Judy,"  says  my  shister;  "hark,  sure  Sir 
Condy  is  drinking  her  health." 

He  was  at  the  table  in  the  room,*  drinking  with  the 
exciseman  and  the  ganger,  who  came  up  to  see  his  honour, 
and  we  were  standing  over  the  fire  in  the  kitchen. 

"I  don't  much  care  is  he  drinking  my  health  or  not," 
says  Judy;  "and  it  is  not  Sir  Condy  I'm  thinking  of,  with 
all  your  jokes,  whatever  he  is  of  me." 

"Sure  you  wouldn't  refuse  to  be  my  Lady  Rackrent, 
Judy,  if  you  had  the  offer? "  says  L 

"But  if  I  could  do  better! "  says  she. 

"How  better? "  says  I  and  my  shister  both  at  once. 

'  The  roovi — the  principal  room  in  the  house. 
5  65 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

"How  better?  "  says  she.  "Why,  what  signifies  it  to  be 
my  Lady  Rackrent  and  no  castle?  Sure  what  good  is  the 
car,  and  no  horse  to  draw  it?" 

"And  where  will  ye  get  the  horse,  Judy?"  says  L 

"Nevermind  that,"  says  she;  "maybe  it  is  your  own 
son  Jason  might  find  that." 

"  Jason!  "  says  I ;  "don't  be  trusting  to  him,  Judy.  Sir 
Condy,  as  I  have  good  reason  to  know,  spoke  well  of  you 
when  Jason  spoke  very  indifferently  of  you,  Judy." 

"No  matter,"  says  Judy;  "it's  often  men  speak  the 
contrary  just  to  what  they  think  of  us." 

"And  you  the  same  way  of  them,  no  doubt,"  answered 
L  "Nay,  don't  be  denying  it,  Judy,  for  I  think  the  better 
of  ye  for  it,  and  shouldn't  be  proud  to  call  ye  the  daughter 
of  a  shister's  son  of  mine,  if  I  was  to  hear  ye  talk  ungrate- 
ful, and  anyway  disrespectful  of  his  honour." 

"What  disrespect,"  says  she,  "to  say  I'd  rather,  if  it 
was  my  luck,  be  the  wife  of  another  man?  " 

"You'll  have  no  luck,  mind  my  words,  Judy,"  says  I; 
and  all  I  remembered  about  my  poor  master's  goodness  in 
tossing  up  for  her  afore  he  married  at  all  came  across  me, 
and  I  had  a  choking  in  my  throat  that  hindered  me  to  say 
more. 

"Better  luck,  anyhow,  Thady,"  says  she,  "than  to  be 
like  some  folk,  following  the  fortunes  of  them  that  have 
none  left." 

"Oh!  King  of  Glory!"  says  I,  "hear  the  pride  and  un- 
gratitude  of  her,  and  he  giving  his  last  guineas  but  a 
minute  ago  to  her  childer,  and  she  with  the  fine  shawl  on 
her  he  made  her  a  present  of  but  yesterday !  " 

"Oh,  troth,  Judy,  you're  wrong  now,"  says  my  shister, 
looking  at  the  shawl. 

"And  was  not  he  wrong  yesterday,  then,"  says  she,  "to 
be  telling  me  I  was  greatly  altered,  to  affront  me?" 

"But,  Judy,"  says  I,  "what  is  it  brings  you  here  then  at 
all  in  the  mind  you  are  in ;  is  it  to  make  Jason  think  the 
better  of  you?" 

"I'll  tell  you  no  more  of  my  secrets,  Thady,"  says  she, 
"nor  would  have  told  you  this  much,  had  I  taken  you  for 

66 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

such  an  unnatural  fader  as  I  find  you  are,  not  to  wish  your 
own  son  prefarred  to  another." 

"Oh,  troth,  you  are  wrong  now,  Thady,"  says  my 
shister. 

Well,  I  was  never  so  put  to  it  in  my  life :  between  these 
womens,  and  my  son  and  my  master,  and  all  I  felt  and 
thought  just  now,  I  could  not,  upon  my  conscience,  tell 
which  was  the  wrong  from  the  right.  So  I  said  not  a  word 
more,  but  was  only  glad  his  honour  had  not  the  luck  to 
hear  all  Judy  had  been  saying  of  him,  for  I  reckoned  it 
would  have  gone  nigh  to  break  his  heart ;  not  that  I  was 
of  opinion  he  cared  for  her  as  much  as  she  and  my  shister 
fancied,  but  the  ungratitude  of  the  whole  from  Judy  might 
not  plase  him ;  and  he  could  never  stand  the  notion  of 
not  being  well  spoken  of  or  beloved  like  behind  his  back. 
Fortunately  for  all  parties  concerned,  he  was  so  much 
elevated  at  this  time,  there  was  no  danger  of  his  under- 
standing anything,  even  if  it  had  reached  his  ears.  There 
was  a  great  horn  at  the  Lodge,  ever  since  my  master  and 
Captain  Moneygawl  was  in  together,  that  used  to  belong 
originally  to  the  celebrated  Sir  Patrick,  his  ancestor;  and 
his  honour  was  fond  often  of  telling  the  story  that  he 
learned  from  me  when  a  child,  how  Sir  Patrick  drank  the 
full  of  this  horn  without  stopping,  and  this  was  what  no 
other  man  afore  or  since  could  without  drawing  breath. 
Now  Sir  Condy  challenged  the  gauger,  who  seemed  to 
think  little  of  the  horn,  to  swallow  the  contents,  and  had 
it  filled  to  the  brim  with  punch ;  and  the  gauger  said  it  was 
what  he  could  not  do  for  nothing,  but  he'd  hold  Sir  Condy 
a  hundred  guineas  he'd  do  it. 

"Done,"  says  my  master;  "I'll  lay  you  a  hundred 
golden  guineas  to  a  tester'  you  don't." 

"Done,"  says  the  gauger;  and  done  and  done's  enough 
between  two  gentlemen.  The  gauger  was  cast,  and  my 
master  won  the  bet,   and  thought  he'd  won  a  hundred 

'  Tester  :  sixpence  ;  from  the  French  word  tefe,  a  head — a  piece  of  silver 
stamped  with  a  head,  which  in  old  French  was  called  ««  testion,  and  which 
was  about  the  value  of  an  old  English  sixpence.  "Tester"  is  used  in 
Shakspeare. 

67 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

guineas,  but  by  the  wording  it  was  adjudged  to  be  only  a 
tester  that  was  his  due  by  the  exciseman.  It  was  all  one 
to  him ;  he  was  as  well  pleased,  and  I  was  glad  to  see  him 
in  such  spirits  again. 

The  ganger — bad  luck  to  him  ! — was  the  man  that  next 
proposed  to  my  master  to  try  himself,  could  he  take  at  a 
draught  the  contents  of  the  great  horn. 

"Sir  Patrick's  horn!"  said  his  honour;  "hand  it  to  me: 
I'll  hold  you  your  own  bet  over  again  I'll  swallow  it." 

"Done,"  says  the  ganger;  "I'll  lay  ye  anything  at  all 
you  do  no  such  thing." 

"A  hundred  guineas  to  sixpence  I  do,"  says  he;  "bring 
me  the  handkerchief."  I  was  loth,  knowing  he  meant  the 
handkerchief  with  the  gold  in  it,  to  bring  it  out  in  such 
company,  and  his  honour  not  very  able  to  reckon  it. 
"Bring  me  the  handkerchief,  then,  Thady,"  says  he,  and 
stamps  with  his  foot ;  so  with  that  I  pulls  it  out  of  my 
greatcoat  pocket,  where  I  had  put  it  for  safety.  Oh,  how 
it  grieved  me  to  see  the  guineas  counting  upon  the  table, 
and  they  the  last  my  master  had !  Says  Sir  Condy  to  me, 
"Your  hand  is  steadier  than  mine  to-night,  old  Thady,  and 
that's  a  wonder;  fill  you  the  horn  for  me."  And  so,  wish- 
ing his  honour  success,  I  did ;  but  I  filled  it,  little  thinking 
of  what  would  befall  him.  He  swallows  it  down,  and  drops 
like  one  shot.  We  lifts  him  up,  and  he  was  speechless,  and 
quite  black  in  the  face.  We  put  him  to  bed,  and  in  a  short 
time  he  wakened,  raving  with  a  fever  on  his  brain.  He 
was  shocking  either  to  see  or  hear. 

"Judy!  Judy!  have  you  no  touch  of  feeling?  Won't 
you  stay  to  help  us  nurse  him?"  says  I  to  her,  and  she 
putting  on  her  shawl  to  go  out  of  the  house. 

"I'm  frightened  to  see  him,"  says  she,  "and  wouldn't 
nor  couldn't  stay  in  it;  and  what  use?  He  can't  last  till 
the  morning."  With  that  she  ran  off.  There  was  none 
but  my  shister  and  myself  left  near  him  of  all  the  many 
friends  he  had. 

The  fever  came  and  went,  and  came  and  went,  and  lasted 
five  days,  and  the  sixth  he  was  sensible  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  said  to  me,  knowing  me  very  well,  "I'm  in  a  burning 

68 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

pain  all  withinside  of  me,  Thady."  I  could  not  speak, 
but  my  shister  asked  him  would  he  have  this  thing  or 
t'other  to  do  him  good?  "No,"  says  he,  "nothing  will  do 
me  good  no  more,"  and  he  gave  a  terrible  screech  with  the 
torture  he  was  in;  then  again  a  minute's  ease —  'brought 
to  this  by  drink,"  says  he.  "Where  are  all  the  friends? — 
where's  Judy?  Gone,  hey?  Ay,  Sir  Condy  has  been  a 
fool  all  his  days,"  said  he;  and  there  was  the  last  word  he 
spoke,  and  died.  He  had  but  a  very  poor  funeral  after  all. 
If  you  want  to  know  any  more,  I'm  not  very  well  able 
to  tell  you ;  but  my  Lady  Rackrent  did  not  die,  as  was 
expected  of  her,  but  was  only  disfigured  in  the  face  ever 
after  by  the  fall  and  bruises  she  got;  and  she  and  Jason, 
immediately  after  my  poor  master's  death,  set  about  going 
to  law  about  that  jointure;  the  memorandum  not  being  on 
stamped  paper,  some  say  it  is  worth  nothing,  others  again 
it  may  do;  others  say  Jason  won't  have  the  lands  at  any 
rate;  many  wishes  it  so.  For  my  part,  I'm  tired  wishing 
for  anything  in  this  world,  after  all  I've  seen  in  it;  but  I'll 
say  nothing — it  would  be  a  folly  to  be  getting  myself  ill-will 
in  my  old  age.  Jason  did  not  marry,  nor  think  of  marry- 
ing Judy,  as  I  prophesied,  and  I  am  not  sorry  for  it:  who 
is?  As  for  all  I  have  here  set  down  from  memory  and  hear- 
say of  the  family,  there's  nothing  but  truth  in  it  from  be- 
ginning to  end.  That  you  may  depend  upon,  for  where's 
the  use  of  telling  lies  about  the  things  which  everybody 
knows  as  well  as  I  do? 

The  Editor  could  have  readily  made  the  catastrophe  of 
Sir  Condy's  history  more  dramatic  and  more  pathetic,  if 
he  thought  it  allowable  to  varnish  the  plain  round  tale  of 
faithful  Thady.  He  lays  it  before  the  English  reader  as  a 
specimen  of  manners  and  characters  which  are  perhaps  un- 
known in  England.  Indeed,  the  domestic  habits  of  no 
nation  in  Europe  were  less  known  to  the  English  than 
those  of  their  sister  country,  till  within  these  few  years. 

Mr.  Young's  picture  of  Ireland,  in  his  tour  through  that 
country,  was  the  first  faithful  portrait  of  its  inhabitants. 
All  the  features  in  the  foregoing  sketch  were  taken  from 

69 


GLOSSARY 

the  life,  and  they  are  characteristic  of  that  mixture  of 
quickness,  simplicity,  cunning,  carelessness,  dissipation, 
disinterestedness,  shrewdness,  and  blunder,  which,  in  dif- 
ferent forms  and  with  various  success,  has  been  brought 
upon  the  stage  or  delineated  in  novels. 

It  is  a  problem  of  difficult  solution  to  determine  whether 
a  union  will  hasten  or  retard  the  amelioration  of  this  coun- 
try. The  few  gentlemen  of  education  who  now  reside  in 
this  country  will  resort  to  England.  They  are  few,  but 
they  are  in  nothing  inferior  to  men  of  the  same  rank  in 
Great  Britain.  The  best  that  can  happen  will  be  the  intro- 
duction of  British  manufacturers  in  their  places. 

Did  the  Warwickshire  militia,  who  were  chiefly  artisans, 
teach  the  Irish  to  drink  beer?  or  did  they  learn  from  the 
Irish  to  drink  whisky? 


GLOSSARY. 

Some  friends^  who  have  seen  Thady  s  history  since  it  has  been 
printed,  have  suggested  to  the  Editor,  that  many  of  the  terms 
and  idiojnatic  phrases,  with  which  it  abounds,  could  not  be  in- 
telligible to  the  English  reader  without  further  explanation. 
The  Editor  has  therefore  furtiished  the  following  Glossary. 

Page  I.  Monday  mor?ii7ig. — Thady  begins  his  memoirs  of  the 
Rackrent  Family  by  dating  Monday  mortii?tg,  because  no  great 
undertaking  can  be  auspiciously  commenced  in  Ireland  on  any 
morning  but  Monday  morfiing.  "  Oh,  please  God  we  live  till 
Monday  morning,  we'll  set  the  slater  to  mend  the  roof  of  the 
house.  On  Monday  morning  we'll  fall  to,  and  cut  the  turf. 
On  Monday  morning  we'll  see  and  begin  mowing.  On  Monday 
morning,  please  your  honour,  we'll  begin  and  dig  the  potatoes," 
etc. 

All  the  intermediate  days,  between  the  making  of  such 
speeches  and  the  ensuing  Monday,  are  wasted:  and  when  Mon- 
day morning  comes,  it  is  ten  to  one  that  the  business  is  deferred 
to  the  next  Monday  morning.  The  Editor  knew  a  gentleman, 
who,  to  counteract  this  prejudice,  made  his  workmen  and 
labourers  begin  all  new  pieces  of  work  upon  a  Saturday. 

70 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

Page  3.  Let  alone  the  three  kingdoms  itself. — Let  alone.,  in  this 
sentence,  rnQSMS  put  out  of  consider atio?i.  The  phrase,  let  alone, 
which  is  now  used  as  the  imperative  of  a  verb,  may  in  time  be- 
come a  conjunction,  and  may  exercise  the  ingenuity  of  some 
future  etymologist.  The  celebrated  Home  Tooke  has  proved 
most  satisfactorily,  that  the  conjunction  but  comes  from  the  im- 
perative of  the  Anglo-Saxon  verb  {beoutati)  to  be  out ;  also,  that 
if  comes  from  gif,  the  imperative  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  verb 
which  signifies  to  give.,  etc. 

Page  4.  Whillaluh. — Ullaloo,  Gol,  or  lamentation  over  the 
dead — 

Magnoque  ululante  tumultu. — Virgil. 

Ululatibus  omne 
Implevere  nemus. — Ovid. 

A  full  account  of  the  Irish  Gol,  or  Ullaloo,  and  of  the  Caoi- 
nan  or  Irish  funeral  song,  with  its  first  semichorus,  second 
semichorus,  full  chorus  of  sighs  and  groans,  together  with  the 
Irish  words  and  music,  may  be  found  in  the  fourth  volume  of 
the  Transactions  of  the  Royal  Irish  Acade?ny.  For  the  advant- 
age of  lazy  readers,  who  would  rather  read  a  page  than  walk  a 
yard,  and  from  compassion,  not  to  say  sympathy,  with  their 
infirmity,  the  Editor  transcribes  the  following  passages: 

"  The  Irish  have  been  always  remarkable  for  their  funeral 
lamentations;  and  this  peculiarity  has  been  noticed  by  almost 
every  traveller  who  visited  them;  and  it  seems  derived  from 
their  Celtic  ancestors,  the  primaeval  inhabitants  of  this 
isle.  .   .   . 

"  It  has  been  affirmed  of  the  Irish,  that  to  cry  was  more  nat- 
ural to  them  than  to  any  other  nation,  and  at  length  the  Irish 
cry  became  proverbial.     .     .     . 

"  Cambrensis  in  the  twelfth  century  says,  the  Irish  then 
musically  expressed  their  griefs;  that  is,  they  applied  the 
musical  art,  in  which  they  excelled  all  others,  to  the  orderly 
celebration  of  funeral  obsequies,  by  dividing  the  mourners 
into  two  bodies,  each  alternately  singing  their  part,  and  the 
whole  at  times  joining  in  full  chorus.  .  .  .  The  body  of 
the  deceased,  dressed  in  grave  clothes,  and  ornamented  with 
flowers,  was  placed  on  a  bier,  or  some  elevated  spot.  The 
relations   and   keeners   {singing  mour?iers)    ranged    themselves 

71 


GLOSSARY 

in  two  divisions,  one  at  the  head,  and  the  other  at  the  feet 
of  the  corpse.  The  bards  and  croteries  had  before  prepared 
the  funeral  Caoinan.  The  chief  bard  of  the  head  chorus 
began  by  singing  the  first  stanza,  in  a  low,  doleful  tone, 
which  was  softly  accompanied  by  the  harp:  at  the  conclusion, 
the  foot  semichorus  began  the  lamentation,  or  Ullaloo,  from  the 
final  note  of  the  preceding  stanza,  in  which  they  were  answered 
by  the  head  semichorus;  then  both  united  in  one  general 
chorus.  The  chorus  of  the  first  stanza  being  ended,  the  chief 
bard  of  the  foot  semichorus  began  the  second  Gol  or  lamenta- 
tion, in  which  he  was  answered  by  that  of  the  head;  and  then, 
as  before,  both  united  in  the  general  full  chorus.  Thus  alter- 
nately were  the  song  and  choruses  performed  during  the  night. 
The  genealogy,  rank,  possessions,  the  virtues  and  vices  of  the 
dead  were  rehearsed,  and  a  number  of  interrogations  were  ad- 
dressed to  the  deceased;  as.  Why  did  he  die?  If  married, 
whether  his  wife  was  faithful  to  him,  his  sons  dutiful,  or  good 
hunters  or  warriors  ?  If  a  woman,  whether  her  daughters  were 
fair  or  chaste  ?  If  a  young  man,  whether  he  had  been  crossed 
in  love;  or  if  the  blue-eyed  maids  of  Erin  treated  him  with 
scorn  ? ' ' 

We  are  told,  that  formerly  the  feet  (the  metrical  feet)  of  the 
Caoinan  were  much  attended  to;  but  on  the  decline  of  the  Irish 
bards  these  feet  were  gradually  neglected,  and  the  Caoinan  fell 
into  a  sort  of  slipshod  metre  amongst  women.  Each  province 
had  different  Caoinans,  or  at  least  different  imitations  of  the 
original.  There  was  the  Munster  cry,  the  Ulster  cry,  etc.  It 
became  an  extempore  performance,  and  every  set  of  keeners 
varied  the  melody  according  to  their  own  fancy. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  how  customs  and  ceremonies  degen- 
erate. The  present  Irish  cry,  or  howl,  cannot  boast  of  such 
melody,  nor  is  the  funeral  procession  conducted  with  much 
dignity.  The  crowd  of  people  who  assemble  at  these  funerals 
sometimes  amounts  to  a  thousand,  often  to  four  or  five  hundred. 
They  gather  as  the  bearers  of  the  hearse  proceed  on  their  way, 
and  when  they  pass  through  any  village,  or  when  they  come 
near  any  houses,  they  begin  to  cry  —  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  Oh! 
Agh !  Agh !  raising  their  notes  from  the  first  Oh !  to  the  last 
Agh  !  in  a  kind  of  mournful  howl.  This  gives  notice  to  the  in- 
habitants of  the  village  that  a  funeral  is  passings  and  immedi- 
ately they  flock  out  to  follow  it.     In  the  province  of  Munster  it 

72 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

is  a  common  thing  for  the  women  to  follow  a  funeral,  to  join  in 
the  universal  cry  with  all  their  might  and  main  for  some  time, 
and  then  to  turn  and  ask — "  Arrah!  who  is  it  that's  dead  ? — who 
is  it  we're  crying  for?"  Even  the  poorest  people  have  their 
own  burying-places — that  is,  spots  of  ground  in  the  churchyards 
where  they  say  that  their  ancestors  have  been  buried  ever  since 
the  wars  of  Ireland ;  and  if  these  burial-places  are  ten  miles  from 
the  place  where  a  man  dies,  his  friends  and  neighbours  take 
care  to  carry  his  corpse  thither.  Always  one  priest,  often  five 
or  six  priests,  attend  these  funerals;  each  priest  repeats  a  mass, 
for  which  he  is  paid,  sometimes  a  shilling,  sometimes  half  a 
crown,  sometimes  half  a  guinea,  or  a  guinea,  according  to  their 
circumstances,  or,  as  they  say,  according  to  the  ability  of  the 
deceased.  After  the  burial  of  any  very  poor  man,  who  has  left 
a  widow  or  children,  the  priest  makes  what  is  called  a  collection 
for  the  widow;  he  goes  round  to  every  person  present,  and  each 
contributes  sixpence  or  a  shilling,  or  what  they  please.  The 
reader  will  find  in  the  note  upon  the  word  Wake,  more  particu- 
lars respecting  the  conclusion  of  the  Irish  funerals. 

Certain  old  women,  who  cry  particularly  loud  and  well,  are  in 
great  request,  and,  as  a  man  said  to  the  Editor,  "  Every  one 
would  wish  and  be  proud  to  have  such  at  his  funeral,  or  at  that 
of  his  friends."  The  lower  Irish  are  wonderfully  eager  to  at- 
tend the  funerals  of  their  friends  and  relations,  and  they  make 
their  relationships  branch  out  to  a  great  extent.  The  proof  that 
a  poor  man  has  been  well  beloved  during  his  life  is  his  having  a 
crowded  funeral.  To  attend  a  neighbour's  funeral  is  a  cheap 
proof  of  humanity,  but  it  does  not,  as  some  imagine,  cost 
nothing.  The  time  spent  in  attending  funerals  may  be  safely 
valued  at  half  a  million  to  the  Irish  nation;  the  Editor  thinks 
that  double  that  sum  would  not  be  too  high  an  estimate.  The 
habits  of  profligacy  and  drunkenness  which  are  acquired  at 
wakes  are  here  put  out  of  the  question.  When  a  labourer,  a 
carpenter,  or  a  smith,  is  not  at  his  work,  which  frequently  hap- 
pens, ask  where  he  is  gone,  and  ten  to  one  the  answer  is — "  Oh, 
faith,  please  your  honour,  he  couldn't  do  a  stroke  to-day,  for 
he's  gone  to  the  funeral." 

Even  beggars,  when  they  grow  old,  go  about  begging /(?r  their 
own  funerals  ;  that  is,  begging  for  money  to  buy  a  coffin,  can- 
dles, pipes,  and  tobacco.  For  the  use  of  the  candles,  pipes, 
and  tobacco,  see  Wake. 

73 


GLOSSARY 

Those  who  value  customs  in  proportion  to  their  antiquity,  and 
nations  in  proportion  to  their  adherence  to  ancient  customs, 
will  doubtless  admire  the  Irish  Ullaloo,  and  the  Irish  nation,  for 
persevering  in  this  usage  from  time  immemorial.  The  Editor, 
however,  has  observed  some  alarming  symptoms,  which  seem  to 
prognosticate  the  declining  taste  for  the  Ullaloo  in  Ireland.  In 
a  comic  theatrical  entertainment,  represented  not  long  since  on 
the  Dublin  stage,  a  chorus  of  old  women  was  introduced,  who 
set  up  the  Irish  howl  round  the  relics  of  a  physician,  who  is 
supposed  to  have  fallen  under  the  wooden  sword  of  Harlequin. 
After  the  old  women  have  continued  their  Ullaloo  for  a  decent 
time,  with  all  the  necessary  accompaniments  of  wringing  their 
hands,  wiping  or  rubbing  their  eyes  with  the  corners  of  their 
gowns  or  aprons,  etc.,  one  of  the  mourners  suddenly  suspends 
her  lamentable  cries,  and,  turning  to  her  neighbour,  asks, 
"  Arrah  now,  honey,  who  is  it  we're  crying  for  ?  " 

Page  5.  The  tenants  were  sent  away  without  their  whisky. —  It 
is  usual  with  some  landlords  to  give  their  inferior  tenants  a  glass 
of  whisky  when  they  pay  their  rents.  Thady  calls  it  their 
whisky;  not  that  the  whisky  is  actually  the  property  of  the  ten- 
ants, but  that  it  becomes  their  right  after  it  has  been  often  given 
to  them.  In  this  general  mode  of  reasoning  respecting  rights 
the  lower  Irish  are  not  singular,  but  they  are  peculiarly  quick 
and  tenacious  in  claiming  these  rights.  "  Last  year  your  honour 
gave  me  some  straw  for  the  roof  of  my  house  and  I  expect  your 
honour  will  be  after  doing  the  same  this  year."  In  this  manner 
gifts  are  frequently  turned  into  tributes.  The  high  and  low  are 
not  always  dissimilar  in  their  habits.  It  is  said,  that  the  Sub- 
lime Ottoman  Porte  is  very  apt  to  claim  gifts  as  tributes:  thus  it 
is  dangerous  to  send  the  Grand  Seignor  a  fine  horse  on  his 
birthday  one  year,  lest  on  his  next  birthday  he  should  expect  a 
similar  present,  and  should  proceed  to  demonstrate  the  reason- 
ableness of  his  expectations. 

Page  5.  He  demeaned  himself  greatly — means,  he  lowered  or 
disgraced  himself  much. 

Page  6.  Duty  fowls,  duty  turkeys,  and  duty  geese. —  In  many 
leases  in  Ireland,  tenants  were  formerly  bound  to  supply  an 
inordinate  quantity  of  poultry  to  their  landlords.     The  Editor 

74 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

knew  of  thirty  turkeys  being  reserved  in  one  lease  of  a  small 
farm.  • 

Page  6.  English  tenants.-r- P^ri  English  tenant  does  not  mean 
a  tenant  who  is  an  Englishman,  but  a  tenant  who  pays  his  rent 
the  day  that  it  is  due.  It  is  a  common  prejudice  in  Ireland, 
amongst  the  poorer  classes  of  people,  to  believe  that  all  tenants 
in  England  pay  their  rents  on  the  very  day  when  they  become 
due.  An  Irishman,  when  he  goes  to  take  a  farm,  if  he  wants  to 
prove  to  his  landlord  that  he  is  a  substantial  man,  offers  to  be- 
come an  English  tenant.  If  a  tenant  disobliges  his  landlord  by 
voting  against  him,  or  against  his  opinion,  at  an  election,  the 
tenant  is  immediately  informed  by  the  agent  that  he  must  be- 
come an  English  tenatit.  This  threat  does  not  imply  that  he  is 
to  change  his  language  or  his  country,  but  that  he  must  pay  all 
the  arrear  of  rent  which  he  owes,  and  that  he  must  thence- 
forward pay  his  rent  on  that  day  when  it  becomes  due. 

Page  6.  Cantifig — does  not  mean  talking  or  writing  hypocrit- 
ical nonsense,  but  selling  substantially  by  auction. 

Page  6.  Duty  work. —  It  was  formerly  common  in  Ireland  to 
insert  clauses  in  leases,  binding  tenants  to  furnish  their  landlords 
with  labourers  and  horses  for  several  days  in  the  year.  Much 
petty  tyranny  and  oppression  have  resulted  from  this  feudal 
custom.  Whenever  a  poor  man  disobliged  his  landlord  the 
agent  sent  to  him  for  his  duty  work;  and  Thady  does  not  ex- 
aggerate when  he  says,  that  the  tenants  were  often  called  from 
their  own  work  to  do  that  of  their  landlord.  Thus  the  very 
means  of  earning  their  rent  were  taken  from  them :  whilst  they 
were  getting  home  their  landlord's  harvest,  their  own  was  often 
ruined,  and  yet  their  rents  were  expected  to  be  paid  as  punctu- 
ally as  if  their  time  had  been  at  their  own  disposal.  This 
appears  the  height  of  absurd  injustice. 

In  Esthonia,  amongst  the  poor  Sclavonian  race  of  peasant 
slaves,  they  pay  tributes  to  their  lords,  not  under  the  name  of 
duty  work,  duty  geese,  duty  turkeys,  etc.,  but  under  the  name 
of  righteousnesses.  The  following  ballad  is  a  curious  specimen 
of  Esthonian  poetry: — 

This  is  the  cause  that  the  country  is  ruined, 
And  the  straw  of  the  thatch  is  eaten  away, 

75 


GLOSSARY 

The  gentry  are  come  to  live  in  the  land — 

Chimneys  between  the  village, 

And  the  proprietor  upon  the  white  floor  ! 

The  sheep  brings  forth  a  lamb  with  a  white  forehead, 

This  is  paid  to  the  lord  for  a  righteousness  sheep. 

The  sow  farrows  pigs, 

They  go  to  the  spit  of  the  lord. 

The  hen  lays  eggs. 

They  go  into  the  lord's  frying-pan. 

The  cow  drops  a  male  calf. 

That  goes  into  the  lord's  herd  as  a  bull. 

The  mare  foals  a  horse  foal, 

That  must  be  for  my  lord's  nag. 

The  boor's  wife  has  sons, 

They  must  go  to  look  after  my  lord's  poultry. 

Page  7 .  Old  of  forty-nine  suits  which  he  had,  he  never  lost  one 
but  seventeen. — Thady's  language  in  this  instance  is  a  specimen  of 
a  mode  of  rhetoric  common  in  Ireland.  An  astonishing  assertion 
is  made  in  the  beginning  of  a  sentence,  which  ceases  to  be  in 
the  least  surprising,  when  you  hear  the  qualifying  explanation 
that  follows.  Thus  a  man  who  is  in  the  last  stage  of  staggering 
drunkenness  will,  if  he  can  articulate,  swear  to  you — "  Upon 
his  conscience  now,  and  may  he  never  stir  from  the  spot  alive 
if  he  is  telling  a  lie,  upon  his  conscience  he  has  not  tasted  a 
drop  of  anything,  good  or  bad,  since  morning  at-all-at-all,  but 
half  a  pint  of  whisky,  please  your  honour." 

Page  8.  Fairy-7nounts  —  Barrows.  It  is  said  that  these  high 
mounts  were  of  great  service  to  the  natives  of  Ireland  when  Ire- 
land was  invaded  by  the  Danes.  Watch  was  always  kept  on 
them,  and  upon  the  approach  of  an  enemy  a  fiire  was  lighted  to 
give  notice  to  the  next  watch,  and  thus  the  intelligence  was 
quickly  communicated  through  the  country.  So7ne  years  ago, 
the  common  people  believed  that  these  barrows  were  inhabited 
by  fairies,  or,  as  they  called  them,  by  the  good  people.  "  Oh, 
troth,  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  and  to  the  best  of  my  judgment 
and  opinion,"  said  an  elderly  man  to  the  Editor,  "  it  was  only 
the  old  people  that  had  nothing  to  do,  and  got  together,  and 
were  telling  stories  about  them  fairies,  but  to  the  best  of  my 
judgment  there's  nothing  in  it.  Only  this  I  heard  myself  not 
very  many  years  back  from  a  decent  kind  of  a  man,  a  grazier, 
that,  as  he  was  coming  jnst  fair  and  easy  {(///ietly)  from  the  fair, 
with  some  cattle  and  sheep,  that  he  had  not  sold,  just  at  the 

76 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

church  of ,  at  an  angle  of  the  road  like,  he  was  met  by  a 

good-looking  man,  who  asked  him  where  he  was  going  ?  And 
he  answered,  '  Oh,  far  enough,  I  must  be  going  all  night.'  'No, 
that  you  mustn't  nor  won't  (says  the  man),  you'll  sleep  with  me 
the  night,  and  you'll  want  for  nothing,  nor  your  cattle  nor  sheep 
neither,  nor  your  beast  {horse) ;  so  come  along  with  me. '  With 
that  the  grazier  lit  {alighted)  from  his  horse,  and  it  was  dark 
night;  but  presently  he  finds  himself,  he  does  not  know  in  the 
wide  world  how,  in  a  fine  house,  and  plenty  of  everything  to  eat 
and  drink;  nothing  at  all  wanting  that  he  could  wish  for  or 
think  of.  And  he  does  not  mind  {recollect  or  know)  how  at  last 
he  falls  asleep;  and  in  the  morning  he  finds  himself  lying,  not 
in  ever  a  bed  or  a  house  at  all,  but  just  in  the  angle  of  the  road 
where  first  he  met  the  strange  man:  there  he  finds  himself  lying 
on  his  back  on  the  grass,  and  all  his  sheep  feeding  as  quiet  as 
ever  all  round  about  him,  and  his  horse  the  same  way,  and  the 
bridle  of  the  beast  over  his  wrist.  And  I  asked  him  what  he 
thought  of  it;  and  from  first  to  last  he  could  think  of  nothing, 
but  for  certain  sure  it  must  have  been  the  fairies  that  entertained 
him  so  well.  For  there  was  no  house  to  see  anywhere  nigh 
hand,  or  any  building,  or  barn,  or  place  at  all,  but  only  the 
church  and  the  mote  {barrow).  There's  another  odd  thing 
enough  that  they  tell  about  this  same  church,  that  if  any  per- 
son's corpse,  that  had  not  a  right  to  be  buried  in  that  church- 
yard, went  to  be  burying  there  in  it,  no,  not  all  the  men, 
women,  or  childer  in  all  Ireland  could  get  the  corpse  anyway 
into  the  churchyard;  but  as  they  would  be  trying  to  go  into  the 
churchyard,  their  feet  would  seem  to  be  going  backwards  in- 
stead of  forwards;  ay,  continually  backwards  the  whole  funeral 
would  seem  to  go;  and  they  would  never  set  foot  with  the  corpse 
in  the  churchyard.  Now  they  say  that  it  is  the  fairies  do  all 
this;  but  it  is  my  opinion  it  is  all  idle  talk,  and  people  are  after 
being  wiser  now." 

The  country  people  in  Ireland  certainly  had  great  admiration 
mixed  with  reverence,  if  not  dread,  of  fairies.  They  believed 
that  beneath  these  fairy-mounts  were  spacious  subterraneous 
palaces,  inhabited  by  the  good  people^  who  must  not  on  any  ac- 
count be  disturbed.  When  the  wind  raises  a  little  eddy  of  dust 
upon  the  road,  the  poor  people  believe  that  it  is  raised  by  the 
fairies,  that  it  is  a  sign  that  they  are  journeying  from  one  of  the 
fairies'  mounts  to  another,  and  they  say  to  the  fairies,   or  to 

77 


GLOSSARY 

the  dust  as  it  passes,  "God  speed  ye,  gentlemen;  God  speed  ye." 
This  averts  any  evil  that  the  good  people  might  be  inclined  to  do 
them.  There  are  innumerable  stories  told  of  the  friendly  and 
unfriendly  feats  of  these  busy  fairies;  some  of  these  tales  are 
ludicrous,  and  some  romantic  enough  for  poetry.  It  is  a  pity 
that  poets  should  lose  such  convenient,  though  diminutive  ma- 
chinery. By  the  bye,  Parnell,  who  showed  himself  so  deeply 
"skilled  in  faerie  lore,"  was  an  Irishman;  and  though  he  has 
presented  his  fairies  to  the  world  in  the  ancient  English  dress 
of  "Britain's  isle,  and  Arthur's  days,"  it  is  probable  that  his 
first  acquaintance  with  them  began  in  his  native  country. 

Some  remote  origin  for  the  most  superstitious  or  romantic 
popular  illusions  or  vulgar  errors  may  often  be  discovered.  In 
Ireland,  the  old  churches  and  churchyards  have  been  usually 
fixed  upon  as  the  scenes  of  wonders.  Now  antiquaries  tell  us, 
that  near  the  ancient  churches  in  that  kingdom  caves  of  various 
constructions  have  from  time  to  time  been  discovered,  which 
were  formerly  used  as  granaries  or  magazines  by  the  ancient  in- 
habitants, and  as  places  to  which  they  retreated  in  time  of 
danger.  There  is  (p.  84  of  the  R.  I.  A.  Transactions  for  1789) 
a  particular  account  of  a  number  of  these  artificial  caves  at  the 
west  end  of  the  church  of  Killossy,  in  the  county  of  Kildare. 
Under  a  rising  ground,  in  a  dry  sandy  soil,  these  subterraneous 
dwellings  were  found:  they  have  pediment  roofs,  and  they  com- 
municate with  each  other  by  small  apertures.  In  the  Brehon 
laws  these  are  mentioned,  and  there  are  fines  inflicted  by  those 
laws  upon  persons  who  steal  from  the  subterraneous  granaries. 
All  these  things  show  that  there  was  a  real  foundation  for  the 
stories  which  were  told  of  the  appearance  of  lights,  and  of  the 
sounds  of  voices,  near  these  places.  The  persons  who  had 
property  concealed  there,  very  willingly  countenanced  every 
wonderful  relation  that  tended  to  make  these  places  objects  of 
sacred  awe  or  superstitious  terror. 

Page  8.  Weed  ashes. —  By  ancient  usage  in  Ireland,  all  the 
weeds  on  a  farm  belonged  to  the  farmer's  wife,  or  to  the  wife  of 
the  squire  who  holds  the  ground  in  his  own  hands.  The  great 
demand  for  alkaline  salts  in  bleaching  rendered  these  ashes  no 
inconsiderable  perquisite. 

Page  8.  Sealing  money. — Formerly  it  was  the  custom  in  Ireland 
for  tenants  to  give  the  squire's  lady  from  two  to  fifty  guinea,s  as 

78 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

a  perquisite  upon  the  sealing  of  their  leases.  The  Editor  not 
very  long  since  knew  of  a  baronet's  lady  accepting  fifty  guineas 
as  sealing  money,  upon  closing  a  bargain  for  a  considerable 
farm. 

Page  9.   Sir  Murtagh  grew  mad — Sir  Murtagh  grew  angry. 

Page  9.  The  whole  kitchen  was  out  on  the  stairs — means  that  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  kitchen  came  out  of  the  kitchen,  and 
stood  upon  the  stairs.  These,  and  similar  expressions,  show 
how  much  the  Irish  are  disposed  to  metaphor  and  amplification. 

Page  II.  Fining  down  the  year  s  rent. — When  an  Irish  gentle- 
man, like  Sir  Kit  Rackrent,  has  lived  beyond  his  income,  and 
finds  himself  distressed  for  ready  money,  tenants  obligingly  offer 
to  take  his  land  at  a  rent  far  below  the  value,  and  to  pay  him  a 
small  sum  of  money  in  hand,  which  they  call  fining  down  the 
yearly  rent.  The  temptation  of  this  ready  cash  often  blinds  the 
landlord  to  his  future  interest. 

Page  II.  Driver. —  A  man  who  is  employed  to  drive  tenants 
for  rent;  that  is,  to  drive  the  cattle  belonging  to  tenants  to 
pound.     The  office  of  driver  is  by  no  means  a  sinecure. 

Page  12.  I  thought  to  make  him  a  priest. —  It  was  customary 
amongst  those  of  Thady's  rank  in  Ireland,  whenever  they  could 
get  a  little  money,  to  send  their  sons  abroad  to  St.  Omer's,  or 
to  Spain,  to  be  educated  as  priests.  Now  they  are  educated  at 
Maynooth.  The  Editor  has  lately  known  a  young  lad,  who  be- 
gan by  being  a  post-boy,  afterwards  turn  into  a  carpenter,  then 
quit  his  plane  and  work-bench  to  study  his  Humanities,  as  he 
said,  at  the  college  of  Maynooth ;  but  after  he  had  gone  through 
his  course  of  Humanities,  he  determined  to  be  a  soldier  instead 
of  a  priest. 

Page  14.  Flam. — Short  for  flambeau. 

Page  15.  Barrack-room. —  Formerly  it  was  customary,  in 
gentlemen's  houses  in  Ireland,  to  fit  up  one  large  bedchamber 
with  a  number  of  beds  for  the  reception  of  occasional  visitors. 
These  rooms  were  called  Barrack-rooms. 

Page  16.  An  innocent — in  Ireland,  means  a  simpleton,  an  idiot. 

Page  21.    The  Curragh — is  the  Newmarket  of  Ireland. 

79 


GLOSSARY 

Page  22.    The  cant. — The  auction. 

Page  26.  And  so  sJwuld  cut  hwi  off  for  ever  by  levying  a  fine, 
atid  suffering  a  recovery  to  dock  the  entail. — The  English  reader 
may  perhaps  be  surprised  at  the  extent  of  Thady's  legal  know- 
ledge, and  at  the  fluency  with  which  he  pours  forth  law-terms; 
but  almost  every  poor  man  in  Ireland,  be  he  farmer,  weaver 
shopkeeper,  or  steward,  is,  besides  his  other  occupations,  occa- 
sionally a  lawyer.  The  nature  of  processes,  ejectments,  cus- 
todiams,  injunctions,  replevins,  etc.,  is  perfectly  known  to  them, 
and  the  terms  as  familiar  to  them  as  to  any  attorney.  They  all 
love  law.  It  is  a  kind  of  lottery,  in  which  every  man,  staking 
his  own  wit  or  cunning  against  his  neighbour's  property,  feels 
that  he  has  little  to  lose,  and  much  to  gain. 

"I'll  have  the  law  of  you,  so  I  will!  "  is  the  saying  of  an 
Englishman  who  expects  justice.  "  I'll  have  you  before  his 
honour,"  is  the  threat  of  an  Irishman  who  hopes  for  partiality. 
Miserable  is  the  life  of  a  justice  of  the  peace  in  Ireland  the  day 
after  a  fair,  especially  if  he  resides  near  a  small  town.  The 
multitude  of  the  kilt  {kilt  does  not  mean  killed,  but  hurt)  and 
wounded  who  come  before  his  honour  with  black  eyes  or  bloody 
heads  is  astonishing:  but  more  astonishing  is  the  number  of 
those  who,  though  they  are  scarcely  able  by  daily  labour  to  pro- 
cure daily  food,  will  nevertheless,  without  the  least  reluctance, 
waste  six  or  seven  hours  of  the  day  lounging  in  the  yard  or  court 
of  a  justice  of  the  peace,  waiting  to  make  some  complaint  about 
— nothing.  It  is  impossible  to  convince  them  that  time  is  jnoney. 
They  do  not  set  any  value  upon  their  own  time,  and  they  think 
that  others  estimate  theirs  at  less  than  nothing.  Hence  they 
make  no  scruple  of  telling  a  justice  of  the  peace  a  story  of  an 
hour  long  about  a  tester  (sixpence) ;  and  if  he  grows  impatient, 
they  attribute  it  to  some  secret  prejudice  which  he  entertains 
against  them. 

Their  method  is  to  get  a  story  completely  by  heart,  and  to  tell 
it,  as  they  call  it,  out  of  the  face,  that  is,  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end,  without  interruption. 

"  Well,  my  good  friend,  I  have  seen  you  lounging  about  these 
three  hours  in  the  yard;  what  is  your  business  ?  " 

"  Please  your  honour,  it  is  what  I  want  to  speak  one  word  to 
your  honour." 

"  Speak  then,  but  be  quick.     What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

80 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

"  The  matter,  please  your  honour,  is  nothing  at-all-at-all, 
only  just  about  the  grazing  of  a  horse,  please  your  honour,  that 
this  man  here  sold  me  at  the  fair  of  Gurtishannon  last  Shrove 
fair,  which  lay  down  three  times  with  myself,  please  your 
honour,  and  kilt  me ;  not  to  be  telling  your  honour  of  how,  no 
later  back  than  yesterday  night,  he  lay  down  in  the  house  there 
within,  and  all  the  childer  standing  round,  and  it  was  God's 
mercy  he  did  not  fall  a-top  of  them,  or  into  the  fire  to  burn 
himself.  So  please  your  honour,  to-day  I  took  him  back  to  this 
man,  which  owned  him,  and  after  a  great  deal  to  do,  I  got  the 
mare  again  I  swopped  {exchafiged)  him  for;  but  he  won't  pay  the 
grazing  of  the  horse  for  the  time  I  had  him,  though  he  promised 
to  pay  the  grazing  in  case  the  horse  didn't  answer;  and  he 
never  did  a  day's  work,  good  or  bad,  please  your  honour,  all 
the  time  he  was  with  me,  and  I  had  the  doctor  to  him  five  times 
anyhow.  And  so,  please  your  honour,  it  is  what  I  expect  your 
honour  will  stand  my  friend,  for  I'd  sooner  come  to  your  honour 
for  justice  than  to  any  other  in  all  Ireland.  And  so  I  brought 
him  here  before  your  honour,  and  expect  your  honour  will  make 
him  pay  me  the  grazing,  or  tell  me,  can  I  process  him  for  it 
at  the  next  assizes,  please  your  honour  ?  " 

The  defendant  now  turning  a  quid  of  tobacco  with  his  tongue 
into  some  secret  cavern  in  his  mouth,  begins  his  defence  with — 

"Please  your  honour,  under  favour,  and  saving  your  honour's 
presence,  there's  not  a  word  of  truth  in  all  this  man  has  been 
saying  from  beginning  to  end,  upon  my  conscience,  and  I 
wouldn't  for  the  value  of  the  horse  itself,  grazing  and  all,  be 
after  telling  your  honour  a  lie.  For,  please  your  honour,  I 
have  a  dependence  upon  your  honour  that  you'll  do  me  justice, 
and  not  be  listening  to  him  or  the  like  of  him.  Please  your 
honour,  it's  what  he  has  brought  me  before  your  honour,  be- 
cause he  had  a  spite  against  me  about  some  oats  I  sold  your 
honour,  which  he  was  jealous  of,  and  a  shawl  his  wife  got  at  my 
shister's  shop  there  without,  and  never  paid  for;  so  I  offered  to 
set  the  shawl  against  the  grazing,  and  give  him  a  receipt  in  full 
of  all  demands,  but  he  wouldn't  out  of  spite,  please  your 
honour;  so  he  brought  me  before  your  honour,  expecting  your 
honour  was  mad  with  me  for  cutting  down  the  tree  in  the  horse 
park,  which  was  none  of  my  doing,  please  your  honour — ill-luck 
to  them  that  went  and  belied  me  to  your  honour  behind  my 
back!     So  if  your  honour  is  pleasing,  I'll  tell  you  the  whole 

e  8i 


GLOSSARY 

truth  about  the  horse  that  he  swopped  against  my  mare  out  of 
the  face.  Last  Shrove  fair  I  met  this  man,  Jemmy  Duffy,  please 
your  honour,  just  at  the  corner  of  the  road,  where  the  bridge  is 
broken  down,  that  your  honour  is  to  have  the  presentment  for 
this  year — long  life  to  you  for  it!  And  he  was  at  that  time  com- 
ing from  the  fair  of  Gurtishannon,  and  I  the  same  way.  '  How 
are  you.  Jemmy  ? '  says  L  '  Very  well,  I  thank  ye  kindly, 
Bryan,'  says  he;  'shall  we  turn  back  to  Paddy  Salmon's  and 
take  a  naggin  of  whisky  to  our  better  acquaintance  ?'  '  I  don't 
care  if  I  did.  Jemmy,'  says  I;  '  only  it  is  what  I  can't  take  the 
whisky,  because  I'm  under  an  oath  against  it  for  a  month.' 
Ever  since,  please  your  honour,  the  day  your  honour  met  me 
on  the  road,  and  observed  to  me  I  could  hardly  stand,  I  had 
taken  so  much;  though  upon  my  conscience  your  honour 
wronged  me  greatly  that  same  time — ill-luck  to  them  that  belied 
me  behind  my  back  to  your  honour!  Well,  please  your  honour, 
as  I  was  telling  you,  as  he  was  taking  the  whisky,  and  we  talk- 
ing of  one  thing  or  t'other,  he  makes  me  an  offer  to  swop  his 
mare  that  he  couldn't  sell  at  the  fair  of  Gurtishannon,  because 
nobody  would  be  troubled  with  the  beast,  please  your  honour, 
against  my  horse,  and  to  oblige  him  I  took  the  mare — sorrow 
take  her!  and  him  along  with  her!  She  kicked  me  a  new  car, 
that  was  worth  three  pounds  ten,  to  tatters  the  first  time  I  ever 
put  her  into  it,  and  I  expect  your  honour  will  make  him  pay  me 
the  price  of  the  car,  anyhow,  before  I  pay  the  grazing,  which 
I've  no  right  to  pay  at-all-at-all,  only  to  oblige  him.  But  I 
leave  it  all  to  your  honour;  and  the  whole  grazing  he  ought  to 
be  charging  for  the  beast  is  but  two  and  eightpence  halfpenny, 
anyhow,  please  your  honour.  So  I'll  abide  by  what  your 
honour  says,  good  or  bad.     I'll  leave  it  all  to  your  honour." 

I'll  leave  it  all  to  your  honour — literally  means,  I'll  leave  all 
the  trouble  to  your  honour. 

The  Editor  knew  a  justice  of  the  peace  in  Ireland  who  had 
such  a  dread  of  having  it  all  left  to  his  hofiour,  that  he  frequently 
gave  the  complainants  the  sum  about  which  they  were  disputing, 
to  make  peace  between  them,  and  to  get  rid  of  the  trouble  of 
hearing  their  stories  out  of  the  face.  But  he  was  soon  cured  of 
this  method  of  buying  off  disputes,  by  the  increasing  multitude 
of  those  who,  out  of  pure  regard  to  his  honour,  came  "  to  get 
justice  from  him,  because  they  would  sooner  come  before  him 
than  before  any  man  in  all  Ireland." 

82 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

Page  ^6.  A  raking  pot  of  tea. —  We  should  observe,  this  cus- 
tom has  long  since  been  banished  from  the  higher  orders  of  Irish 
gentry.  The  mysteries  of  a  raking  pot  of  tea,  like  those  of  the 
Bona  Dea,  are  supposed  to  be  sacred  to  females;  but  now  and 
then  it  has  happened  that  some  of  the  male  species,  who  were 
either  more  audacious,  or  more  highly  favoured  than  the  rest  of 
their  sex,  have  been  admitted  by  stealth  to  these  orgies.  The 
time  when  the  festive  ceremony  begins  varies  according  to  cir- 
cumstances, but  it  is  never  earlier  than  twelve  o'clock  at  night; 
the  joys  of  a  raking  pot  of  tea  depending  on  its  being  made  in 
secret,  and  at  an  unseasonable  hour.  After  a  ball,  when  the 
more  discreet  part  of  the  company  has  departed  to  rest,  a  few 
chosen  female  spirits,  who  have  footed  it  till  they  can  foot  it  no 
longer,  and  till  the  sleepy  notes  expire  under  the  slurring  hand 
of  the  musician,  retire  to  a  bedchamber,  call  the  favourite  maid, 
who  alone  is  admitted,  bid  her////  doti>n  the  kettle,  lock  the  door, 
and  amidst  as  much  giggling  and  scrambling  as  possible,  they  get 
round  a  tea-table,  on  which  all  manner  of  things  are  huddled 
together.  Then  begin  mutual  railleries  and  mutual  confidences 
amongst  the  young  ladies,  and  the  faint  scream  and  the  loud 
laugh  is  heard,  and  the  romping  for  letters  and  pocket-books 
begins,  and  gentlemen  are  called  by  their  surnames,  or  by  the 
general  name  of  fellows!  pleasant  fellows!  charming  fellows! 
odious  fellows!  abominable  fellows!  and  then  all  prudish  de- 
corums are  forgotten,  and  then  we  might  be  convinced  how 
much  the  satirical  poet  was  mistaken  when  he  said — 

There  is  no  woman  where  there's  no  reserve. 

The  merit  of  the  original  idea  of  a  raking  pot  of  tea  evidently 
belongs  to  the  washerwoman  and  the  laundry-maid.  But  why 
should  not  we  have  Low  life  above  stairs  as  well  as  High  life 
below  stairs  ? 

Page  38,  We  gaijied  the  day  by  this  piece  of  honesty. — In  a  dis- 
pute which  occurred  some  years  ago  in  Ireland,  between  Mr.  E. 
and  Mr.  M.,  about  the  boundaries  of  a  farm,  an  old  tenant  of 
Mr.  M.'s  cut  a  sod  from  Mr.  M.'s  land,  and  inserted  it  in  a  spot 
prepared  for  its  reception  in  Mr.  E.'s  land;  so  nicely  was  it  in- 
serted, that  no  eye  could  detect  the  junction  of  the  grass.  The 
old  man,  who  was  to  give  his  evidence  as  to  the  property,  stood 


GLOSSARY 

upon  the  inserted  sod  when  the  viewers  came,  and  swore  that 
the  ground  he  then  stood  upon  belonged  to  his  landlord,  Mr.  M. 
The  Editor  had  flattered  himself  that  the  ingenious  contriv- 
ance which  Thady  records,  and  the  similar  subterfuge  of  this 
old  Irishman,  in  the  dispute  concerning  boundaries,  were  in- 
stances of  'cuteness  unparalleled  in  all  but  Irish  story:  an  Eng- 
lish friend,  however,  has  just  mortified  the  Editor's  national 
vanity  by  an  account  of  the  following  custom,  which  prevails  in 
part  of  Shropshire.  It  is  discreditable  for  women  to  appear 
abroad  after  the  birth  of  their  children  till  they  have  been 
churched.  To  avoid  this  reproach,  and  at  the  same  time  to  en- 
joy the  pleasure  of  gadding,  whenever  a  woman  goes  abroad  be- 
fore she  has  been  to  church,  she  takes  a  tile  from  the  roof  of  her 
house,  and  puts  it  upon  her  head:  wearing  this  panoply  all  the 
time  she  pays  her  visits,  her  conscience  is  perfectly  at  ease;  for 
she  can  afterwards  safely  declare  to  the  clergyman,  that  she 
"  has  never  been  from  under  her  own  roof  till  she  came  to  be 
churched." 

Page  40.  Carton,  and  half -carton. — Thady  means  cartron,  and 
half-cartron.  "  According  to  the  old  record  in  the  black  book 
of  Dublin,  a  cantred  is  said  to  contain  30  villatas  terras,  which 
are  also  called  quarters  of  land  (quarterons,  cartrons) ;  every 
one  of  which  quarters  must  contain  so  much  ground  as  will  pas- 
ture 400  cows,  and  17  plough-lands.  A  knight's  fee  was  com- 
posed of  8  hydes,  which  amount  to  160  acres,  and  that  is 
generally  deemed  about  z. plough-land.''' 

The  Editor  was  favoured  by  a  learned  friend  with  the  above 
extract,  from  a  MS.  of  Lord  Totness's  in  the  Lambeth  library. 

Page  57.  Wake. — A  wake  in  England  means  a  festival  held 
upon  the  anniversary  of  the  saint  of  the  parish.  At  these 
wakes,  rustic  games,  rustic  conviviality,  and  rustic  courtship, 
are  pursued  with  all  the  ardour  and  all  the  appetite  which  ac- 
company such  pleasures  as  occur  but  seldom.  In  Ireland  a 
wake  is  a  midnight  meeting,  held  professedly  for  the  indulgence 
of  holy  sorrow,  but  usually  it  is  converted  into  orgies  of  unholy 
joy.  When  an  Irish  man  or  woman  of  the  lower  order  dies,  the 
straw  which  composed  the  bed,  whether  it  has  been  contained 
in  a  bag  to  form  a  mattress,  or  simply  spread  upon  the  earthen 
floor,  is  immediately  taken  out  of  the  house,  and  burned  before 
the  cabin  door,  the  family  at  the  same  time  setting  up  the  death 

84 


CASTLE  RACKRENT 

howl.  The  ears  and  eyes  of  the  neighbours  being  thus  alarmed, 
they  flock  to  the  house  of  the  deceased,  and  by  their  vociferous 
sympathy  excite  and  at  the  same  time  soothe  the  sorrows  of  the 
family. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  how  good  and  bad  are  mingled  in 
human  institutions.  In  countries  which  were  thinly  inhabited, 
this  custom  prevented  private  attempts  against  the  lives  of  indi- 
viduals, and  formed  a  kind  of  coroner's  inquest  upon  the  body 
which  had  recently  expired,  and  burning  the  straw  upon  which 
the  sick  man  lay  became  a  simple  preservative  against  infection. 
At  night  the  dead  body  is  waked,  that  is  to  say,  all  the  friends  and 
neighbours  of  the  deceased  collect  in  a  barn  or  stable,  where  the 
corpse  is  laid  upon  some  boards,  or  an  unhinged  door,  sup- 
ported upon  stools,  the  face  exposed,  the  rest  of  the  body  cov- 
ered with  a  white  sheet.  Round  the  body  are  stuck  in  brass 
candlesticks,  which  have  been  borrowed  perhaps  at  five  miles' 
distance,  as  many  candles  as  the  poor  person  can  beg  or  bor- 
row, observing  always  to  have  an  odd  number.  Pipes  and  to- 
bacco are  first  distributed,  and  then,  according  to  the  ability  of 
the  deceased,  cakes  and  ale,  and  sometimes  whisky,  are  dealt  to 
the  company — 

Deal  on,  deal  on,  my  merry  men  all, 

Deal  on  your  cakes  and  your  wine, 
For  whatever  is  dealt  at  her  funeral  to-day 

Shall  be  dealt  to-morrow  at  mine. 

After  a  fit  of  universal  sorrow,  and  the  comfort  of  a  universal 
dram,  the  scandal  of  the  neighbourhood,  as  in  higher  circles, 
occupies  the  company.  The  young  lads  and  lasses  romp  with 
one  another,  and  when  the  fathers  and  mothers  are  at  last  over- 
come with  sleep  and  whisky  (ijino  et  so  in  no),  the  youth  become 
more  enterprising,  and  are  frequently  successful.  It  is  said 
that  more  matches  are  made  at  wakes  than  at  weddings. 

Page  60,  Kilt. — This  word  frequently  occurs  in  the  preced- 
ing pages,  where  it  means  not  killed,  but  much  httrt.  In  Ire- 
land, not  only  cowards,  but  the  brave  "  die  many  times  before 
their  death." — There  killing  is  no  murder. 


85 


XLbc  lEngUsb 
Com^Die  Ibumalnc 


THE  ABSENTEE 

BY 

MARIA  EDGEWORTH 


'  "  See  the  reward  of  all  your  services,  indeed  !    What 
an  unreasonable,  ungrateful  man  !  "  ' 


iZbc  Bnglisb  Come'Mc  Ibumafne 


THE    ABSENTEE 


BY 


MARIA  EDGEWORTH 


*>f»)^i^cimfM 


NEW  YORK 

^be  Century  Co. 

1904 


Copyright,  1903,  by 
The  Century  Co. 

Published^  October,  KjOJ 


<<  f 


<<  • 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

From  drawings  by  Chris  Hammond 

See  the  reward  of  all  your  services,   indeed! 

What  an  unreasonable,  ungrateful  man!  '  "    Frontispiece 

FACING    PAGE 

MORDICAl's!  '    EXCLAIMED    LORD    ClONBRONY,    WITH  A 

sudden  blush,  which  he  endeavoured  to  hide  by 
taking  snuff  " 24 

First  came  in,   hobbling,   rank  and  gout;  next, 

RANK  AND  GAMING  " 2o6 

as  it  flashed  across  her  mind,  she  started  back; 
her  face  grew  crimson,  and,  in  the  same  instant, 
pale  as  death  " 230 

'  But  now,  my  charming  Grace,'  said  Lord  Colam- 
bre,  kneeling  beside  her  " 276 


THE  ABSENTEE 


THE  ABSENTEE 


CHAPTER   I. 

ARE  you  to  be  at  Lady  Clonbrony's  gala  next 
week?"  said  Lady  Langdale  to  Mrs,  Dareville, 
whilst  they  were  waiting  for  their  carriages  in  the 
crush-room  of  the  opera  house. 

"Oh  yes!  everybody's  to  be  there,  I  hear,"  replied 
Mrs.  Dareville.     "Your  ladyship,  of  course?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know — if  I  possibly  can.  Lady  Clon- 
brony  makes  it  such  a  point  with  me,  that  I  believe  I  must 
look  in  upon  her  for  a  few  minutes.  They  are  going  to  a 
prodigious  expense  on  this  occasion.  Soho  tells  me  the 
reception  rooms  are  all  to  be  new  furnished,  and  in  the 
most  magnificent  style." 

"At  what  a  famous  rate  those  Clonbronies  are  dashing 
on,"  said  Colonel  Heathcock.     "Up  to  anything." 

"Who  are  they? — these  Clonbronies,  that  one  hears  of 
so  much  of  late?"  said  her  Grace  of  Torcaster.  "Irish 
absentees,  I  know.  But  how  do  they  support  all  this 
enormous  expense? " 

"The  son  zvill  have  a  prodigiously  fine  estate  when  some 
Mr,  Quin  dies,"  said  Mrs.  Dareville, 

"Yes,  everybody  who  comes  from  Ireland  will  have  a 
fine  estate  when  somebody  dies,"  said  her  grace.  "But 
what  have  they  at  present?" 

"Twenty  thousand  a  year,  they  say,"  replied  Mrs. 
Dareville. 

"Ten  thousand,  I  believe,"  cried  Lady  Langdale. 
"Make  it  a  rule,  you  know,  to  believe  only  half  the  world 
says," 

"Ten  thousand,  have  they? — possibly,"  said  her  grace. 
"I   know    nothing   about   them  —  have   no   acquaintance 


THE  ABSENTEE 

amon""  the  Irish.  Torcaster  knows  something  of  Lady 
Clonbrony ;  she  has  fastened  herself,  by  some  means,  upon 
him :  but  I  charge  him  not  to  commit  me.  Positively,  I 
could  not  for  anybody — and  much  less  for  that  sort  of  per- 
son— extend  the  circle  of  my  acquaintance." 

"Now  that  is  so  cruel  of  your  grace,"  said  Mrs.  Dare- 
ville,  laughing,  "when  poor  Lady  Clonbrony  works  so 
hard,  and  pays  so  high,  to  get  into  certain  circles." 

"If  you  knew  all  she  endures,  to  look,  speak,  move, 
breathe  like  an  Englishwoman,  you  would  pity  her,"  said 
Lady  Langdale. 

"Yes,  and  you  caivnt  conceive  'dxo.pccns  she  teekes  to  talk 
of  the  tecbles  and  cheers,  and  to  thank  Q,  and,  with  so  much 
teeste,  to  speak  pure  English,"  said  Mrs.  Dareville. 

"Pure  cockney,  you  mean,"  said  Lady  Langdale. 

"But  why  does  Lady  Clonbrony  want  to  pass  for  Eng- 
lish?" said  the  duchess. 

"Oh  !  because  she  is  not  quite  Irish  bred  and  born — only 
bred,  not  born,"  said  Mrs.  Dareville.  "And  she  could  not 
be  five  minutes  in  your  grace's  company  before  she  would 
tell  you,  that  she  was  HcnglisJi,  born  in  HoxfordshireS' 

"She  must  be  a  vastly  amusing  personage.  I  should 
like  to  meet  her,  if  one  could  see  and  hear  her  incog.,"  said 
the  duchess.     "And  Lord  Clonbrony,  what  is  he?" 

"Nothing,  nobody,"  said  Mrs.  Dareville;  "one  never 
even  hears  of  him." 

"A  tribe  of  daughters,  too,  I  suppose?  " 

"No,  no,"  said  Lady  Langdale,  "daughters  would  be 
past  all  endurance." 

"There's  a  cousin,  though,  a  Grace  Nugent,"  said  Mrs. 
Dareville,  "that  Lady  Clonbrony  has  with  her." 

"Best  part  of  her,  too,"  said  Colonel  Heathcock;  "d — d 
fine  girl ! — never  saw  her  look  better  than  at  the  opera  to- 
night! " 

Fine  complexion  !  as  Lady  Clonbrony  says,  when  she 
means  a  high  colour,"  said  Lady  Langdale. 

"Grace  Nugent  is  not  a  lady's  beauty,"  said  Mrs.  Dare- 
ville.    "Has  she  any  fortune,  colonel?" 

"'Pen  honour,  don't  know,"  said  the  colonel. 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"There's  a  son,  somewhere,  is  not  there?"  said  Lady 
Langdale, 

"Don't  know,  'pon  honour,"  replied  the  colonel. 

"Yes — at  Cambridge — not  of  age  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Dare- 
ville.  "Bless  me!  here  is  Lady  Clonbrony  come  back.  I 
thought  she  was  gone  half  an  hour  ago!  " 

"Mamma,"  whispered  one  of  Lady  Langdale's  daugh- 
ters, leaning  between  her  mother  and  Mrs.  Dareville,  "who 
is  that  gentleman  that  passed  us  just  now?  " 

"Which  way? " 

"Towards  the  door.  There  now,  mamma,  you  can  see 
him.  He  is  speaking  to  Lady  Clonbrony — to  Miss  Nugent. 
Now  Lady  Clonbrony  is  introducing  him  to  Miss  Broad- 
hurst." 

"I  see  him  now,"  said  Lady  Langdale,  examining  him 
through  her  glass;  "a  very  gentlemanlike-looking  young 
man,  indeed." 

"Not  an  Irishman,  I  am  sure,  by  his  manner,"  said  her 
grace. 

"Heathcock!"  said  Lady  Langdale,  "who  is  Miss 
Broadhurst  talking  to?" 

"Eh!  now  really — 'pon  honour — don't  know,"  replied 
Heathcock. 

"And  yet  he  certainly  looks  like  somebody  one  certainly 
should  know,"  pursued  Lady  Langdale,  "though  I  don't 
recollect  seeing  him  anywhere  before." 

"Really  now!"  was  all  the  satisfaction  she  could  gain 
from  the  insensible,  immovable  colonel.  However,  her 
ladyship,  after  sending  a  whisper  along  the  line,  gained 
the  desired  information,  that  the  young  gentleman  was 
Lord  Colambre,  son,  only  son,  of  Lord  and  Lady  Clon- 
brony— that  he  was  just  come  from  Cambridge — that  he 
was  not  yet  of  age — that  he  would  be  of  age  within  a  year 
— that  he  would  then,  after  the  death  of  somebody,  come 
into  possession  of  a  fine  estate,  by  the  mother's  side — "and 
therefore,  Cat'rine,  my  dear,"  said  she,  turning  round  to 
the  daughter,  who  had  first  pointed  him  out,  "you  under- 
stand, we  should  never  talk  about  other  people's  affairs." 

"No,   mamma,   never.     I   hope  to  goodness,    mamma, 

5 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Lord  Colambrc  did  not  hear  what  you  and  Mrs.  Dareville 
were  saying !  ' ' 

"How  could  he,  child?  He  was  quite  at  the  other  end 
of  the  world." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,  he  was  at  my  elbow,  close 
behind  us;  but  I  never  thought  about  him  till  I  heard 
somebody  say,  'My  lord 

"Good  heavens!  I  hope  he  didn't  hear." 

"But,  for  my  part,  I  said  nothing,"  cried  Lady  Lang- 
dale. 

"And  for  my  part,  I  said  nothing  but  what  everybody 
knows!  "cried  Mrs.  Dareville. 

"And  for  my  part,  I  am  guilty  only  of  hearing,"  said 
the  duchess.  "Do,  pray,  Colonel  Heathcock,  have  the 
goodness  to  see  what  my  people  are  about,  and  what  chance 
we  have  of  getting  away  to-night." 

"The  Duchess  of  Torcaster's  carriage  stops  the  way!" 
— a  joyful  sound  to  Colonel  Heathcock  and  to  her  grace, 
and  not  less  agreeable,  at  this  instant,  to  Lady  Langdale, 
who,  the  moment  she  was  disembarrassed  of  the  duchess, 
pressed  through  the  crowd  to  Lady  Clonbrony,  and,  ad- 
dressing her  with  smiles  and  complacency,  was  "charmed 
to  have  a  little  moment  to  speak  to  her — could  not  sooner 
get  through  the  crowd  —  would  certainly  do  herself  the 
honour  to  be  at  her  ladyship's  gala  on  Wednesday." 
While  Lady  Langdale  spoke,  she  never  seemed  to  see  or 
think  of  anybody  but  Lady  Clonbrony,  though,  all  the 
time,  she  was  intent  upon  every  motion  of  Lord  Colambre, 
and,  whilst  she  was  obliged  to  listen  with  a  face  of  sym- 
pathy to  a  long  complaint  of  Lady  Clonbrony's,  about  Mr. 
Soho's  want  of  taste  in  ottomans,  she  was  vexed  to  per- 
ceive that  his  lordship  showed  no  desire  to  be  introduced 
to  her,  or  to  her  daughters;  but,  on  the  contrary,  was 
standing  talking  to  Miss  Nugent.  His  mother,  at  the  end 
of  her  speech,  looked  round  for  Colambre — called  him  twice 
before  he  heard — introduced  him  to  Lady  Langdale,  and 
to  Lady  Cat'rine,  and  Lady  Anne ,  and  to  Mrs,  Dare- 
ville; to  all  of  whom  he  bowed  with  an  air  of  proud  cold- 
ness, which  gave  them  reason  to  regret  that  their  remarks 

6 


THE  ABSENTEE 

upon  his  mother  and  his  family  had  not  been  made  sotto 
voce. 

"Lady  Langdale's  carriage  stops  the  way!"  Lord  Co- 
lambre  made  no  offer  of  his  services,  notwithstanding  a 
look  from  his  mother.  Incapable  of  the  meanness  of 
voluntarily  listening  to  a  conversation  not  intended  for 
him  to  hear,  he  had,  however,  been  compelled,  by  the 
pressure  of  the  crowd,  to  remain  a  few  minutes  stationary, 
where  he  could  not  avoid  hearing  the  remarks  of  the  fash- 
ionable friends.  Disdaining  dissimulation,  he  made  no 
attempt  to  conceal  his  displeasure.  Perhaps  his  vexation 
was  increased  by  his  consciousness  that  there  was  some 
mixture  of  truth  in  their  sarcasms.  He  was  sensible  that 
his  mother,  in  some  points — her  manners,  for  instance — 
was  obvious  to  ridicule  and  satire.  In  Lady  Clonbrony's 
address  there  was  a  mixture  of  constraint,  affectation,  and 
indecision,  unusual  in  a  person  of  her  birth,  rank,  and 
knowledge  of  the  world.  A  natural  and  unnatural  manner 
seemed  struggling  in  all  her  gestures,  and  in  every  syllable 
that  she  articulated  —  a  naturally  free,  familiar,  good- 
natured,  precipitate,  Irish  manner,  had  been  schooled,  and 
schooled  late  in  life,  into  a  sober,  cold,  still,  stiff  deport- 
ment, which  she  mistook  for  English.  A  strong,  Hibernian 
accent,  she  had,  with  infinite  difficulty,  changed  into  an 
English  tone.  Mistaking  reverse  of  wrong  for  right,  she 
caricatured  the  English  pronunciation ;  and  the  extraordi- 
nary precision  of  her  London  phraseology  betrayed  her  not 
to  be  a  Londoner,  as  the  man,  who  strove  to  pass  for  an 
Athenian,  was  detected  by  his  Attic  dialect.  Not  aware 
of  her  real  danger,  Lady  Clonbrony  was,  on  the  opposite 
side,  in  continual  apprehension,  every  time  she  opened  her 
lips,  lest  some  treacherous  a  or  e,  some  strong  r,  some 
puzzling  aspirate,  or  non-aspirate,  some  unguarded  note, 
interrogative  or  expostulatory,  should  betray  her  to  be  an 
Irishwoman.  Mrs.  Dareville  had,  in  her  mimicry,  per- 
haps a  little  exaggerated  as  to  the  tccbles  and  cheers,  but 
still  the  general  likeness  of  the  representation  of  Lady 
Clonbrony  was  strong  enough  to  strike  and  vex  her  son. 
He  had  now,  for  the  first  time,  an  opportunity  of  judging 


THE  ABSENTEE 

of  the  estimation  in  which  his  mother  and  his  family  were 
held  by  certain  leaders  of  the  ton,  of  whom,  in  her  letters, 
she  had  spoken  so  much,  and  into  whose  society,  or  rather 
into  whose  parties,  she  had  been  admitted.  He  saw  that 
the  renegado  cowardice,  with  which  she  denied,  abjured, 
and  reviled  her  own  country,  gained  nothing  but  ridicule 
and  contempt.  He  loved  his  mother;  and,  whilst  he  en- 
deavoured to  conceal  her  faults  and  foibles  as  much  as 
possible  from  his  own  heart,  he  could  not  endure  those 
who  dragged  them  to  light  and  ridicule.  The  next  morn- 
ing the  first  thing  that  occurred  to  Lord  Colambre's 
remembrance  when  he  awoke  was  the  sound  of  the  con- 
temptuous emphasis  which  had  been  laid  on  the  words 
IRISH  absentees!  This  led  to  recollections  of  his  native 
country,  to  comparisons  of  past  and  present  scenes,  to 
future  plans  of  life.  Young  and  careless  as  he  seemed. 
Lord  Colambre  was  capable  of  serious  reflection.  Of 
naturally  quick  and  strong  capacity,  ardent  affections,  im- 
petuous temper,  the  early  years  of  his  childhood  passed  at 
his  father's  castle  in  Ireland,  where,  from  the  lowest  serv- 
ant to  the  well-dressed  dependant  of  the  family,  everybody 
had  conspired  to  wait  upon,  to  fondle,  to  flatter,  to  wor- 
ship, this  darling  of  their  lord.  Yet  he  was  not  spoiled — 
not  rendered  selfish.  For,  in  the  midst  of  this  flattery  and 
servility,  some  strokes  of  genuine  generous  affection  had 
gone  home  to  his  little  heart;  and,  though  unqualified 
submission  had  increased  the  natural  impetuosity  of  his 
temper,  and  though  visions  of  his  future  grandeur  had 
touched  his  infant  thought,  yet,  fortunately,  before  he 
acquired  any  fixed  habits  of  insolence  or  tyranny,  he  was 
carried  far  away  from  all  that  were  bound  or  willing  to 
submit  to  his  commands,  far  away  from  all  signs  of  hered- 
itary grandeur — plunged  into  one  of  our  great  public  schools 
— into  a  new  world.  Forced  to  struggle,  mind  and  body, 
with  his  equals,  his  rivals,  the  little  lord  became  a  spirited 
schoolboy,  and,  in  time,  a  man.  Fortunately  for  him, 
science  and  literature  happened  to  be  the  fashion  among  a 
set  of  clever  young  men  with  whom  he  was  at  Cambridge. 
His  ambition   for  intellectual  superiority  was  raised,  his 


THE  ABSENTEE 

views  were  enlarged,  his  tastes  and  his  manners  formed. 
The  sobriety  of  English  good  sense  mixed  most  advantage- 
ously with  Irish  vivacity;  English  prudence  governed,  but 
did  not  extinguish  his  Irish  enthusiasm.  But,  in  fact, 
English  and  Irish  had  not  been  invidiously  contrasted  in 
his  mind  :  he  had  been  so  long  re.<7ident  in  England,  and  so 
intimately  connected  with  Englishmen,  that  he  was  not 
obvious  to  any  of  the  commonplace  ridicule  thrown  upon 
Hibernians;  and  he  had  lived  with  men  who  were  too  well 
informed  and  liberal  to  misjudge  or  depreciate  a  sister 
country.  He  had  found,  from  experience,  that,  however 
reserved  the  English  may  be  in  manner,  they  are  warm  at 
heart ;  that,  however  averse  they  may  be  from  forming  new 
acquaintance,  their  esteem  and  confidence  once  gained, 
they  make  the  most  solid  friends.  He  had  formed  friend- 
ships in  England ;  he  was  fully  sensible  of  the  superior 
comforts,  refinement,  and  information,  of  English  society ; 
but  his  own  country  was  endeared  to  him  by  early  associa- 
tion, and  a  sense  of  duty  and  patriotism  attached  him  to 
Ireland.  And  shall  I  too  be  an  absentee?  was  a  question 
which  resulted  from  these  reflections — a  question  which  he 
was  not  yet  prepared  to  answer  decidedly.  In  the  mean- 
time, the  first  business  of  the  morning  was  to  execute  a 
commission  for  a  Cambridge  friend.  Mr.  Berryl  had 
bought  from  Mr.  Mordicai,  a  famous  London  coachmaker, 
a  curricle,  ivarraiitcd  sound,  for  which  he  had  paid  a  sound 
price,  upon  express  condition  that  Mr.  Mordicai,  barring 
accidents,  should  be  answerable  for  all  repairs  of  the  curricle 
for  six  months.  In  three,  both  the  carriage  and  body  were 
found  to  be  good  for  nothing — the  curricle  had  been  re- 
turned to  Mr.  Mordicai — nothing  had  since  been  heard  of 
it,  or  from  him — and  Lord  Colambre  had  undertaken  to 
pay  him  and  it  a  visit,  and  to  make  all  proper  inquiries. 
Accordingly,  he  went  to  the  coachmaker's,  and,  obtaining 
no  satisfaction  from  the  underlings,  desired  to  see  the  head 
of  the  house.  He  was  answered,  that  Mr.  Mordicai  was 
not  at  home.  His  lordship  had  never  seen  Mr.  Mordicai; 
but,  just  then,  he  saw,  walking  across  the  yard,  a  man, 
who  looked  something  like  a  Bond  Street  coxcomb,  but 


THE  ABSENTEE 

not  the  least  like  a  gentleman,  who  called,  in  the  tone  of  a 
master,  for  "Mr.  Mordicai's  barouche!  "  It  appeared;  and 
he  was  stepping  into  it  when  Lord  Colambre  took  the 
liberty  of  stopping  him ;  and,  pointing  to  the  wreck  of  Mr. 
Berryl's  curricle,  now  standing  in  the  yard,  began  a  state- 
ment of  his  friend's  grievances,  and  an  appeal  to  common 
justice  and  conscience,  which  he,  unknowing  the  nature  of 
the  man  with  whom  he  had  to  deal,  imagined  must  be  irre- 
sistible. Mr.  Mordicai  stood  without  moving  a  muscle  of 
his  dark  wooden  face.  Indeed,  in  his  face  there  appeared 
to  be  no  muscles,  or  none  which  could  move;  so  that, 
though  he  had  what  are  generally  called  handsome  feat- 
ures, there  was,  all  together,  something  unnatural  and 
shocking  in  his  countenance.  When,  at  last,  his  eyes 
turned,  and  his  lips  opened,  this  seemed  to  be  done  by 
machinery,  and  not  by  the  will  of  a  living  creature,  or  from 
the  impulse  of  a  rational  soul.  Lord  Colambre  was  so 
much  struck  with  this  strange  physiognomy,  that  he 
actually  forgot  much  he  had  to  say  of  springs  and  wheels. 
But  it  was  no  matter.  Whatever  he  had  said,  it  would 
have  come  to  the  same  thing;  and  Mordicai  would  have 
answered  as  he  now  did — 

"Sir,  it  was  my  partner  made  that  bargain,  not  myself; 
and  I  don't  hold  myself  bound  by  it,  for  he  is  the  sleeping 
partner  only,  and  not  empowered  to  act  in  the  way  of  busi- 
ness. Had  Mr.  Berryl  bargained  with  me,  I  should  have 
told  him  that  he  should  have  looked  to  these  things  before 
his  carriage  went  out  of  our  yard." 

The  indignation  of  Lord  Colambre  kindled  at  these 
words — but  in  vain.  To  all  that  indignation  could  by 
word  or  look  urge  against  Mordicai,  he  replied — 

"Maybe  so,  sir;  the  law  is  open  to  your  friend — the  law 
is  open  to  all  men  who  can  pay  for  it." 

Lord  Colambre  turned  in  despair  from  the  callous  coach- 
maker,  and  listened  to  one  of  his  more  compassionate- 
looking  workmen,  who  was  reviewing  the  disabled  curricle; 
and,  whilst  he  was  waiting  to  know  the  sum  of  his  friend's 
misfortune,  a  fat,  jolly,  Falstaff  looking  personage  came 
into  the  yard,  accosted  Mordicai  with  a  degree  of  familiar- 

lo 


THE  ABSENTEE 

ity,  which,  from  a  gentleman,  appeared  to  Lord  Colambre 
to  be  almost  impossible. 

"How  are  you,  Mordicai,  my  good  fellow?"  cried  he, 
speaking  with  a  strong  Irish  accent. 

"Who  is  this?"  whispered  Lord  Colambre-to  the  fore- 
man, who  was  examining  the  curricle. 

"Sir  Terence  O'Fay,  sir.  There  must  be  entire  new 
wheels." 

"Now  tell  me,  my  tight  fellow,"  continued  Sir  Terence, 
holding  Mordicai  fast,  "when,  in  the  name  of  all  the  saints, 
good  or  bad,  in  the  calendar,  do  you  reckon  to  let  us  sport 
the  suicide  ?  ' ' 

Mordicai  forcibly  drew  his  mouth  into  what  he  meant 
for  a  smile,  and  answered,  "As  soon  as  possible.  Sir  Ter- 
ence." 

Sir  Terence,  in  a  tone  of  jocose,  wheedling  expostula- 
tion, entreated  him  to  have  the  carriage  finished  out  of 
hand.  "Ah,  now!  Mordy,  my  precious!  let  us  have  it  by 
the  birthday,  and  come  and  dine  with  us  o'  Monday,  at 
the  Hibernian  Hotel — there's  a  rare  one — will  you?" 

Mordicai  accepted  the  invitation,  and  promised  faithfully 
that  the  suicide  should  be  finished  by  the  birthday.  Sir 
Terence  shook  hands  upon  this  promise,  and,  after  telling 
a  good  story,  which  made  one  of  the  workmen  in  the  yard 
— an  Irishman — grin  with  dehght,  walked  off.  Mordicai, 
first  waiting  till  the  knight  was  out  of  hearing,  called 
aloud — 

"You  grinning  rascal!  mind,  at  your  peril,  and  don't  let 
that  there  carriage  be  touched,  d'ye  see,  till  further  orders." 

One  of  Mr.  Mordicai's  clerks,  with  a  huge  long-feathered 
pen  behind  his  ear,  observed  that  Mr.  Mordicai  was  right  in 
that  caution,  for  that,  to  the  best  of  his  comprehension, 
Sir  Terence  O'Fay  and  his  principal,  too,  were  over  head 
and  ears  in  debt. 

Mordicai  coolly  answered  that  he  was  well  aware  of  that ; 
but  that  the  estate  could  afford  to  dip  further;  that,  for 
his  part,  he  was  under  no  apprehension ;  he  knew  how  to 
look  sharp,  and  to  bite  before  he  was  bit.  That  he  knew 
Sir  Terence  and  his  principal  were  leagued  together  to  give 

II 


THE  ABSENTEE 

the  creditors  the  go  by,  but  that,  clever  as  they  both  were 
at  that  work,  he  trusted  he  was  their  match. 

"Will  you  be  so  good,  sir,  to  finish  making  out  this  es- 
timate for  me?"  interrupted  Lord  Colambre. 

"Immediately,    sir.      Sixty-nine   pound    four,    and   the 

perch.     Let  us  see Mr.  Mordicai,  ask  him,  ask  Paddy, 

about  Sir  Terence,"  said  the  foreman,  pointing  back  over 
his  shoulder  to  the  Irish  workman,  who  was  at  this  moment 
pretending  to  be  wondrous  hard  at  work.  However,  when 
Mr.  Mordicai  defied  him  to  tell  him  anything  he  did  not 
know,  Paddy,  parting  with  an  untasted  bit  of  tobacco, 
began,  and  recounted  some  of  Sir  Terence  O" Fay's  exploits 
in  evading  duns,  replevying  cattle,  fighting  sheriffs,  bribing 
subs,  managing  cants,  tricking  custodccs,  in  language  so 
strange,  and  with  a  countenance  and  gestures  so  full  of  en- 
joyment of  the  jest,  that,  whilst  Mordicai  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment aghast  with  astonishment.  Lord  Colambre  could  not 
help  laughing,  partly  at,  and  partly  with,  his  countryman. 
All  the  yard  were  in  a  roar  of  laughter,  though  they  did 
not  understand  half  of  what  they  heard ;  but  their  risible 
muscles  were  acted  upon  mechanically,  or  maliciously, 
merely  by  the  sound  of  the  Irish  brogue. 

Mordicai,  waiting  till  the  laugh  was  over,  dryly  observed 
that  "the  law  is  executed  in  another  guess  sort  of  way  in 
England  from  what  it  is  in  Ireland"  ;  therefore,  for  his  part, 
he  desired  nothing  better  than  to  set  his  wits  fairly  against 
such  sharks.  That  there  was  a  pleasure  in  doing  up  a 
debtor  which  none  but  a  creditor  could  know. 

"In  a  moment,  sir;  if  you'll  have  a  moment's  patience, 
sir,  if  you  please,"  said  the  slow  foreman  to  Lord  Colam- 
bre; "I  must  go  down  the  pounds  once  more,  and  then  I'll 
let  you  have  it." 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Smithfield,"  continued  Mr.  Mordicai, 
coming  close  beside  his  foreman,  and  speaking  very  low, 
but  with  a  voice  trembling  with  anger,  for  he  was  piqued 
by  his  foreman's  doubts  of  his  capacity  to  cope  with  Sir 
Terence  O'Fay;  "I'll  tell  you  what,  Smithfield,  I'll  be 
cursed,  if  I  don't  get  every  inch  of  them  into  my  power. 
You  know  how?  " 

12 


THE  ABSENTEE 

* '  You  are  the  best  judge,  sir, ' '  replied  the  foreman  ;  ' '  but 
1  would  not  undertake  Sir  Terence;  and  the  question  is, 
whether  the  estate  will  answer  the  lot  of  the  debts,  and 
whether  you  know  them  all  for  certain?  " 

"I  do,  sir,  I  tell  you.  There's  Green — there's  Blancham 
— there's  Gray — there's  Soho — naming  several  more — and, 
to  my  knowledge,  Lord  Clonbrony " 

"Stop,  sir,"  cried  Lord  Colambre  in  a  voice  which  made 
Mordicai,  and  everybody  present,  start — 'T  am  his  son " 

"The  devil!  "  said  Mordicai. 

"God  bless  every  bone  in  his  body,  then  ! — he's  an  Irish- 
man," cried  Paddy;  "and  there  was  the  r^-son  my  heart 
warmed  to  him  from  the  first  minute  he  come  into  the 
yard,  though  I  did  not  know  it  till  now." 

"What,  sir!  are  you  my  Lord  Colambre?"  said  Mr. 
Mordicai,  recovering,  but  not  clearly  recovering,  his  intel- 
lects. "I  beg  pardon,  but  I  did  not  know  you  was  Lord 
Colambre.  I  thought  you  told  me  you  was  the  friend  of 
Mr.  Berryl." 

"I  do  not  see  the  incompatibility  of  the  assertion,  sir," 
replied  Lord  Colambre,  taking  from  the  bewildered  fore- 
man's unresisting  hand  the  account,  which  he  had  been  so 
\ox\^  furn  is  J  I  i)ig. 

"Give  me  leave,  my  lord,"  said  Mordicai.  "I  beg  your 
pardon,  my  lord,  perhaps  we  can  compromise  that  business 
for  your  friend  Mr.  Berryl;  since  he  is  your  lordship's 
friend,  perhaps  we  can  contrive  to  coniproinlsc  and  split  the 
difference. 

To  compromise  and  split  the  difference,  Mordicai  thought 
were  favourite  phrases,  and  approved  Hibernian  modes  of 
doing  business,  which  would  conciliate  this  young  Irish 
nobleman,  and  dissipate  the  proud  tempest  which  had 
gathered  and  now  swelled  in  his  breast. 

"No,  sir,  no !  "  cried  Lord  Colambre,  holding  firm  the 
paper.  "I  want  no  favour  from  you.  I  will  accept  of 
none  for  my  friend  or  for  myself." 

"Favour!      No,    my   lord,    I    should    not    presume   to 

ofTer But  I  should  wish,   if  you'll  allow  me,  to  do 

your  friend  justice." 

13 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Lord  Colambre  recollecting  that  he  had  no  right,  in  his 
pride,  to  fling  away  his  friend's  money,  let  Mr,  Mordicai 
look  at  the  account;  and,  his  impetuous  temper  in  a  few 
moments  recovered  by  good  sense,  he  considered  that,  as 
his  person  was  utterly  unknown  to  Mr.  Mordicai,  no  offence 
could  have  been  intended  to  him,  and  that,  perhaps,  in 
what  had  been  said  of  his  father's  debts  and  distress,  there 
might  be  more  truth  than  he  was  aware  of.  Prudently, 
therefore,  controlling  his  feelings,  and  commanding  himself, 
he  suffered  Mr.  Mordicai  to  show  him  into  a  parlour,  to 
settle  his  friend's  business.  In  a  few  minutes  the  account 
was  reduced  to  a  reasonable  form,  and,  in  consideration  of 
the  partner's  having  made  the  bargain,  by  which  Mr.  Mor- 
dicai felt  himself  influenced  in  honour,  though  not  bound 
in  law,  he  undertook  to  have  the  curricle  made  better  than 
new  again,  for  Mr.  Berryl,  for  twenty  guineas.  Then  came 
awkward  apologies  to  Lord  Colambre,  which  he  ill  endured. 
"Between  ourselves,  my  lord,"  continued  Mordicai 

But  the  familiarity  of  the  phrase,  "Between  ourselves" — 
this  implication  of  equality  —  Lord  Colambre  could  not 
admit ;  he  moved  hastily  towards  the  door  and  departed. 


CHAPTER    II. 

FULL  of  what  he  had  heard,  and  impatient  to  obtain 
further  information  respecting  the  state  of  his  father's 
affairs,  Lord  Colambre  hastened  home ;  but  his  father 
was  out,  and  his  mother  was  engaged  with  Mr.  Soho,  direct- 
ing, or  rather  being  directed,  how  her  apartments  should 
be  fitted  up  for  her  gala.  As  Lord  Colambre  entered  the 
room,  he  saw  his  mother.  Miss  Nugent,  and  Mr.  Soho, 
standing  at  a  large  table,  which  was  covered  with  rolls  of 
paper,  patterns,  and  drawings  of  furniture:  Mr.  Soho  was 
speaking  in  a  conceited  dictatorial  tone,  asserting  that 
there  was  no  "colour  in  nature  for  that  room  equal  to  the 
bclly-o-thc  fawn'' ;  which  belly-d-the  fawn  he  so  pro- 
nounced that  Lady  Clonbrony  understood  it  to  be  la  belle 

14 


THE  ABSENTEE 

uniforme,  and,  under  this  mistake,  repeated  and  assented 
to  the  assertion  till  it  was  set  to  rights,  with  condescending 
superiority,  by  the  upholsterer.  This  first  architectural 
upholsterer  of  the  age,  as  he  styled  himself,  and  was  univers- 
ally admitted  to  be  by  all  the  world  of  fashion,  then,  with 
full  powers  given  to  him,  spoke  e7i  maitre.  The  whole  face 
of  things  must  be  changed  —  there  must  be  new  hangings, 
new  draperies,  new  cornices,  new  candelabras,  new  every- 
thing ! 

The  upholsterer's  eye,  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling, 

Glances  from  ceiling  to  floor,  from  floor  to  ceiling; 

And,  as  imagination  bodies  forth 

The  form  of  things  unknown,  th'  upholsterer's  pencil 

Turns  to  shape  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 

A  local  habitation  and  a  name. 

Of  the  value  of  a  NAME  no  one  could  be  more  sensible 
than  Mr.  Soho. 

"Your  la'ship  sees — this  is  merely  a  scratch  of  my  pencil 
— your  la'ship's  sensible — just  to  give  you  an  idea  of  the 
shape,  the  form  of  the  thing.  You  fill  up  your  angles  here 
with  encoiniires — round  your  walls  with  the  Turkish  tent 
drapery — a  fancy  of  my  own — in  apricot  cloth,  or  crimson 
velvet,  suppose,  or  en  flute,  in  crimson  satin  draperies, 
fanned  and  riched  with  gold  fringes,  en  suite — intermediate 
spaces,  Apollo's  heads  with  gold  rays — and  here,  ma'am, 
you  place  four  cJiancelieres,  with  chimeras  at  the  corners, 
covered  with  blue  silk  and  silver  fringe,  elegantly  fanciful 
— with  my  STATIRA  CANOPY  here — light  blue  silk  draperies 
— aerial  tint,  with  silver  balls  —  and  for  seats  here,  the 
SERAGLIO  OTTOMANS,superfine  scarlet — your  paws — griffin 
— golden — and  golden  tripods,  here,  with  antique  cranes — 
and  oriental  alabaster  tables  here  and  there — quite  appro- 
priate, your  la'ship  feels. 

"And — let  me  reflect.  For  the  next  apartment,  it  strikes 
me — as  your  la'ship  don't  value  expense — the  Alhavibra 
hangitigs — my  own  thought  entirely.  Now,  before  I  unroll 
them,  Lady  Clonbrony,  I  must  beg  you'll  not  mention 
I've  shown  them.     I  give  you  my  sacred  honour,  not  a 

15 


THE  ABSENTEE 

soul  has  set  eye  upon  the  Alhambra  hangings,  except  Mrs. 
Dareville,  who  stole  a  peep;  I  refused,  absolutely  refused, 
the  Duchess  of  Torcaster — but  I  can't  refuse  your  la'ship. 
So  see,  ma'am— (unrolling  them)— scagliola  porphyry  col- 
umns supporting  the  grand  dome — entablature,  silvered 
and  decorated  with  imitative  bronze  ornaments;  under  the 
entablature,  a  valance  in  pelmets,  of  puffed  scarlet  silk, 
would  have  an  unparalleled  grand  effect,  seen  through  the 
arches  —  with  the  TREBISOND  TRELLICE  PAPER,  would 
make  a  tout  ensemble,  novel  beyond  example.  On  that 
Trebisond  trellice  paper,  I  confess,  ladies,  I  do  pique 
myself. 

"Then,  for  the  little  room,  I  recommend  turning  it 
temporarily  into  a  Chinese  pagoda,  with  this  Chinese  pagoda 
paper,  with  the  porcelain  border,  and  josses,  and  jars,  and 
beakers  to  match ;  and  I  can  venture  to  promise  one  vase 
of  pre-eminent  size  and  beauty.  Oh,  indubitably !  if  your 
la'ship  prefers  it,  you  can  have  the  Egyptian  hieroglyphic 
paper,  with  the  ibis  border  to  match !  The  only  objection 
is,  one  sees  it  everywhere — quite  antediluvian — gone  to  the 

hotels  even  ;  but,  to  be  sure,  if  your  la'ship  has  a  fancy 

At  all  events,  I  humbly  recommend,  what  her  Grace  of 
Torcaster  longs  to  patronise,  my  MOON  CURTAINS,  with 
candlelight  draperies.  A  demisaison  elegance  this — I  hit 
off  yesterday — and — true,  your  la'ship's  quite  correct — out 
of  the  common,  completely.  And,  of  course,  you'd  have 
the  sphynx  candelabras,  and  the  Phoenix  argands.  Oh ! 
nothing  else  lights  now,  ma'am!  Expense!  Expense  of 
the  whole !  Impossible  to  calculate  here  on  the  spot ! — but 
nothing  at  all  worth  your  ladyship's  consideration!  " 

At  another  moment.  Lord  Colambre  might  have  been 
amused  with  all  this  rhodomontade,  and  with  the  airs  and 
voluble  conceit  of  the  orator;  but,  after  what  he  had  heard 
at  Mr.  Mordicai's,  this  whole  scene  struck  him  more  with 
melancholy  than  with  mirth.  He  was  alarmed  by  the  pro- 
spect of  new  and  unbounded  expense;  provoked,  almost 
past  enduring,  by  the  jargon  and  impertinence  of  this  up- 
holsterer; mortified  and  vexed  to  the  heart  to  see  his 
mother  the  dupe,  the  sport  of  such  a  coxcomb. 

i6 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Prince  of  puppies! — Insufferable! — My  own  mother  "  ! 
Lord  Colambre  repeated  to  himself,  as  he  walked  hastily 
up  and  down  the  room. 

"Colambre,  won't  you  let  us  have  your  judgment — your 
teeste  ?  "  said  his  mother. 

"Excuse  me,  ma'am.  I  have  no  taste,  no  judgment,  in 
these  things." 

He  sometimes  paused,  and  looked  at  Mr.  Soho  with  a 

strong  inclination  to But  knowing  that  he  should  say 

too  much,  if  he  said  anything,  he  was  silent — never  dared 
to  approach  the  council  table — but  continued  walking  up 
and  down  the  room,  till  he  heard  a  voice,  which  at  once 
arrested  his  attention,  and  soothed  his  ire.  He  approached 
the  table  instantly,  and  listened,  whilst  Grace  Nugent  said 
everything  he  wished  to  have  said,  and  with  all  the  pro- 
priety and  delicacy  with  which  he  thought  he  could  not 
have  spoken.  He  leaned  on  the  table,  and  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  her — years  ago,  he  had  seen  his  cousin — last  night, 
he  had  thought  her  handsome,  pleasing,  graceful — but 
now,  he  saw  a  new  person,  or  he  saw  her  in  a  new  light. 
He  marked  the  superior  intelligence,  the  animation,  the 
eloquence  of  her  countenance,  its  variety,  whilst  alter- 
nately, with  arch  raillery  or  grave  humour,  she  played  off 
Mr.  Soho,  and  made  him  magnify  the  ridicule,  till  it  was 
apparent  even  to  Lady  Clonbrony.  He  observed  the 
anxiety,  lest  his  mother  should  expose  her  own  foibles — 
he  was  touched  by  the  respectful,  earnest  kindness — the 
soft  tones  of  persuasion,  with  which  she  addressed  his 
mother — the  care  not  to  presume  upon  her  own  influence 
— the  good  sense,  the  taste  she  showed,  yet  not  displaying 
her  superiority — the  address,  temper,  and  patience,  with 
which  she  at  last  accomplished  her  purpose,  and  prevented 
Lady  Clonbrony  from  doing  anything  preposterously  ab- 
surd, or  exorbitantly  extravagant. 

Lord  Colambre  was  actually  sorry  when  the  business  was 
ended — when  Mr.  Soho  departed — for  Grace  Nugent  was 
then  silent ;  and  it  was  necessary  to  remove  his  eyes  from 
that  countenance,  on  which  he  had  gazed  unobserved. 
Beautiful  and  graceful,  yet  so  unconscious  was  she  of  her 

17 


THE  ABSENTEE 

charms,  that  the  eye  of  admiration  could  rest  upon  her 
without  her  perceiving  it  —  she  seemed  so  intent  upon 
others  as  totally  to  forget  herself.  The  whole  train  of 
Lord  Colambre's  thoughts  was  so  completely  deranged 
that,  although  he  was  sensible  there  was  something  of  im- 
portance he  had  to  say  to  his  mother,  yet,  when  Mr.  Soho's 
departure  left  him  opportunity  to  speak,  he  stood  silent, 
unable  to  recollect  anything  but — Grace  Nugent. 

When  Grace  Nugent  left  the  room,  after  some  minutes' 
silence,  and  some  effort,  Lord  Colambre  said  to  his  mother, 
"Pray,  madam,  do  you  know  anything  of  Sir  Terence 
O'Fay?" 

"I !"  said  Lady  Clonbrony,  drawing  up  her  head  proudly ; 
"I  know  he  is  a  person  I  cannot  endure.  He  is  no  friend 
of  mine,  I  can  assure  you — nor  any  such  sort  of  person." 

"I  thought  it  was  impossible!"  cried  Colambre,  with 
exultation. 

"I  only  wish  your  father,  Colambre,  could  say  as  much," 
added  Lady  Clonbrony. 

Lord  Colambre's  countenance  fell  again;  and  again  he 
was  silent  for  some  time. 

"Does  my  father  dine  at  home,  ma'am?  " 

"I  suppose  not;  he  seldom  dines  at  home." 

"Perhaps,  ma'am,  my  father  may  have  some  cause  to  be 
uneasy  about " 

"About?"  said  Lady  Clonbrony,  in  a  tone,  and  with  a 
look  of  curiosity  which  convinced  her  son  that  she  knew 
nothing  of  his  debts  or  distresses,  if  he  had  any.  "About 
what?  "  repeated  her  ladyship. 

Here  was  no  receding,  and  Lord  Colambre  never  had 
recourse  to  artifice. 

"About  his  affairs,  I  was  going  to  say,  madam.  But, 
since  you  know  nothing  of  any  difficulties  or  embarrass- 
ments, I  am  persuaded  that  none  exist." 

"Nay,  I  cazvnt  tell  you  that,  Colambre.  There  are  diffi- 
culties for  ready  money,  I  confess,  when  I  ask  for  it,  which 
surprise  me  often.  I  know  nothing  of  affairs — ladies  of  a 
certain  rank  seldom  do,  you  know.  But,  considering  your 
father's  estate,  and  the  fortune  I  brought  him,"  added  her 


THE  ABSENTEE 

ladyship,  proudly,  "I  cawnt  conceive  it  at  all.  Grace 
Nugent,  indeed,  often  talks  to  me  of  embarrassments  and 
economy ;  but  that,  poor  thing,  is  very  natural  for  her, 
because  her  fortune  is  not  particularly  large,  and  she  has 
left  it  all,  or  almost  all,  in  her  uncle  and  guardian's  hands. 
I  know  she's  often  distressed  for  odd  money  to  lend  me, 
and  that  makes  her  anxious." 

"Is  not  Miss  Nugent  very  much  admired,  ma'am,  in 
London?" 

"Of  course — in  the  company  she  is  in,  you  know,  she 
has  every  advantage.  And  she  has  a  natural  family  air  of 
fashion — not  but  what  she  would  have  got  on  much  better, 
if,  when  she  first  appeared  in  Lon'on,  she  had  taken  my 
advice,  and  wrote  herself  on  her  cards  Miss  de  Nogent, 
which  would  have  taken  off  the  prejudice  against  the  Iri- 
cism  of  Nugent,  you  know;  and  there  is  a  Count  de 
Nogent." 

"I  did  not  know  there  was  any  such  prejudice,  ma'am. 
There  may  be  among  a  certain  set ;  but,  I  should  think, 
not  among  well-informed,  well-bred  people." 

"I  big  yonr pazvdon,  Colambre;  surely  I,  that  was  born 
in  England,  an  Henglish- woman  bawn  !  must  be  well  in- 
fazvmed  o\\  thxspint,  anyway." 

Lord  Colambre  was  respectfully  silent. 

"Mother,"  resumed  he,  "I  wonder  that  Miss  Nugent  is 
not  married!  " 

"That  is  her  own  fau't,  entirely;  she  has  refused  very 
good  offers — establishments  that,  I  own,  I  think,  as  Lady 
Langdale  says,  I  was  to  blame  to  allow  her  to  let  pass ; 
but  young  iedies,  till  they  are  twenty,  always  think  they 
can  do  better.  Mr.  Martingale,  of  Martingale,  proposed 
for  her,  but  she  objected  to  him  on  account  of  he's  being 
on  the  turf;  and  Mr.  St.  Albans'  £yQOO  a  year — because — 
I  reelly  forget  what — I  believe  only  because  she  did  not  like 
him — and  something  about  principles.  Now  there  is  Colo- 
nel Heathcock,  one  of  the  most  fashionable  young  men 
you  see,  always  with  the  Duchess  of  Torcaster  and  that 
set — Heathcock  takes  a  vast  deal  of  notice  of  her,  for 
him;    and  yet,   I'm   persuaded,  she  would  not  have  him 

19 


THE  ABSENTEE 

to-morrow,  if  he  came  to  t\\Q  pint,  and  for  no  reason,  redly 
now,  that  she  can  give  me,  but  because  she  says  he's  a  cox- 
comb. Grace  has  a  tincture  of  Irish  pride.  But,  for  my 
part,  I  rejoice  that  she  is  so  difficult,  for  I  don't  know  what 
I  should  do  without  her." 

"Miss  Nugent  is  indeed — very  much  attached  to  you, 
mother,  I  am  convinced,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  beginning 
his  sentence  with  great  enthusiasm,  and  ending  it  wath 
great  sobriety. 

"Indeed  then,  she's  a  sweet  girl,  and  I  am  very  partial  to 
her,  there's  the  truth,"  cried  Lady  Clonbrony,  in  an  un- 
disguised Irish  accent,  and  with  her  natural  warm  manner. 
But  a  moment  afterwards  her  features  and  whole  form  re- 
sumed their  constrained  stillness  and  stiffness,  and,  in  her 
English  accent,  she  continued — 

"Before  you  put  my  idces  out  of  my  head,  Colambre,  I 
had  something  to  say  to  you — Oh !  I  know  what  it  was — 
we  were  talking  of  embarrassments — and  I  wished  to  do 
your  father  the  justice  to  mention  to  you  that  he  has  been 
jinconniioji  liberal  to  me  about  this  gala,  and  has  reelly  given 
me  carte-blanche;  and  I've  a  notion — indeed  I  know — that 
it  is  you,  Colambre,  I  am  to  thank  for  this." 

"Me!— ma'am !  " 

"Yes!     Did  not  your  father  give  you  any  hint? " 

"No,  ma'am  ;  I  have  seen  my  father  but  for  half  an  hour 
since  I  came  to  town,  and  in  that  time  he  said  nothing  to 
me — of  his  affairs." 

"But  what  I  allude  to  is  more  your  affair." 

"He  did  not  speak  to  me  of  any  affairs,  ma'am — he 
spoke  only  of  my  horses." 

"Then  I  suppose  my  lord  leaves  it  to  me  to  open  the 
matter  to  you.  I  have  the  pleasure  to  tell  you,  that  we 
have  in  view  for  you — and  I  think  I  may  say  with  more 
than  the  approbation  of  all  her  family — an  alliance " 

"Oh!  my  dear  mother!  you  cannot  be  serious,"  cried 
Lord  Colambre;  "you  know  I  am  not  of  years  of  discre- 
tion yet — I  shall  not  think  of  marrying  these  ten  years,  at 
least." 

"Why  not?     Nay,  my  dear  Colambre,  don't  go,  I  beg — 

20 


THE  ABSENTEE 

I  am  serious,  I  assure  you — and,  to  convince  you  of  it,  I 
shall  tell  you  candidly,  at  once,  all  your  father  told  me : 
that  now  you've  done  with  Cambridge,  and  are  come  to 
Lon'on,  he  agrees  with  me  in  wishing  that  you  should 
make  the  figure  you  ought  to  make,  Colambre,  as  sole  heir- 
apparent  to  the  Clonbrony  estate,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  living  in  Lon'on,  and  making  you 
the  handsome  allowance  you  ought  to  have,  are,  both  to- 
gether, more  than  your  father  can  afford,  without  incon- 
venience, he  tells  me." 

"I  assure  you,  mother,  I  shall  be  content " 

"No,  no;  you  must  not  be  content,  child,  and  you  must 
hear  me.  You  must  live  in  a  becoming  style,  and  make  a 
proper  appearance.  I  could  not  present  you  to  my  friends 
here,  nor  be  happy,  if  you  did  not,  Colambre.  Now  the 
way  is  clear  before  you  :  you  have  birth  and  title,  here  is 
fortune  ready  made;  you  will  have  a  noble  estate  of  your 
own  when  old  Quin  dies,  and  you  will  not  be  any  en- 
cumbrance or  inconvenience  to  your  father  or  anybody. 
Marrying  an  heiress  accomplishes  all  this  at  once ;  and  the 
young  lady  is  everything  we  could  wish,  besides — you  will 
meet  again  at  the  gala.  Indeed,  between  ourselves,  she  is 
the  grand  object  of  the  gala;  all  her  friends  will  come  en 
masse,  and  one  should  wish  that  they  should  see  things  in 
proper  style.  You  have  seen  the  young  lady  in  question, 
Colambre — Miss  Broadhurst.  Don't  you  recollect  the 
young  lady  I  introduced  you  to  last  night  after  the  opera?  " 

"The  little,  plain  girl,  covered  with  diamonds,  who  was 
standing  beside  Miss  Nugent?" 

"In  di'monds,  yes.  But  you  won't  think  her  plain 
when  you  see  more  of  her — that  wears  oiT;  I  thought  her 
plain,  at  first — I  hope " 

"I  hope,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  "that  you  will  not  take 
it  unkindly  of  me,  my  dear  mother,  if  I  tell  you,  at  once, 
that  I  have  no  thoughts  of  marrying  at  present — and  that 
I  never  will  marry  for  money.  Marrying  an  heiress  is  not 
even  a  new  way  of  paying  old  debts — at  all  events,  it  is 
one  to  which  no  distress  could  persuade  me  to  have  re- 
course; and  as  I  must,  if  I  outlive  old  Mr.  Quin,  have  an 

21 


THE  ABSENTEE 

independent  fortune,  tJiere  is  no  occasion  to  purchase  one 
by  marriage." 

"There  is  no  distress,  that  I  know  of,  in  the  case,"  cried 
Lady  Clonbrony.  "Where  is  your  imagination  running, 
Colambre?  But  merely  for  your  establishment,  your  inde- 
pendence." 

"Establishment,  I  want  none — independence  I  do  de- 
sire, and  will  preserve.  Assure  my  father,  my  dear  mother, 
that  I  will  not  be  an  expense  to  him.  I  will  live  within  the 
allowance  he  made  me  at  Cambridge — I  will  give  up  half  of 
it — I  will  do  anything  for  his  convenience — but  marry  for 
money,  that  I  cannot  do." 

"Then,  Colambre,  you  are  very  disobliging, "  said  Lady 
Clonbrony,  with  an  expression  of  disappointment  and  dis- 
pleasure; "for  your  father  says,  if  you  don't  marry  Miss 
Broadhurst,  we  can't  live  in  Lon'on  another  winter." 

This  said — which,  had  she  been  at  the  moment  mistress 
of  herself,  she  would  not  have  let  out — Lady  Clonbrony 
abruptly  quitted  the  room.  Her  son  stood  motionless, 
saying  to  himself — 

"Is  this  my  mother? — How  altered!  " 

The  next  morning  he  seized  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
to  his  father,  whom  he  caught,  with  difficulty,  just  when 
he  was  going  out,  as  usual,  for  the  day.  Lord  Colambre, 
with  all  the  respect  due  to  his  father,  and  with  that  affec- 
tionate manner  by  which  he  always  knew  how  to  soften  the 
strength  of  his  expressions,  made  nearly  the  same  declara- 
tions of  his  resolution,  by  which  his  mother  had  been  so 
much  surprised  and  offended.  Lord  Clonbrony  seemed 
more  embarrassed,  but  not  so  much  displeased.  When 
Lord  Colambre  adverted,  as  delicately  as  he  could,  to  the 
selfishness  of  desiring  from  him  the  sacrifice  of  liberty  for 
life,  to  say  nothing  of  his  affections,  merely  to  enable  his 
family  to  make  a  splendid  figure  in  London,  Lord  Clon- 
brony exclaimed,  "That's  all  nonsense! — cursed  nonsense! 
That's  the  way  we  are  obliged  to  state  the  thing  to  your 
mother,  my  dear  boy,  because  I  might  talk  her  deaf  before 
she  would  understand  or  listen  to  anything  else.  But,  for 
my  own  share,  I  don't  care  a  rush  if  London  was  sunk  in 

22 


THE  ABSENTEE 

the  salt  sea.  Little  Dublin  for  my  money,  as  Sir  Terence 
O'Fay  says." 

"Who  is  Sir  Terence  O'Fay,  may  I  ask,  sir?  " 

"Why,  don't  you  know  Terry?  Ay,  you've  been  so 
long  at  Cambridge,  I  forgot.  And  did  you  never  see 
Terry?  " 

"I  have  seen  him,  sir — I  met  him  yesterday  at  Mr.  Mor- 
dicai's,  the  coachmaker's. " 

' '  Mordicai's !"  exclaimed  Lord  Clonbrony,  with  a  sudden 
blush,  which  he  endeavoured  to  hide  by  taking  snuff.  "He 
is  a  damned  rascal,  that  Mordicai !  I  hope  you  didn't  be- 
lieve a  word  he  said — nobody  does  that  knows  him." 

"I  am  glad,  sir,  that  you  seem  to  know  him  so  well,  and 
to  be  upon  your  guard  against  him,"  replied  Lord  Colam- 
bre;  "for,  from  what  I  heard  of  his  conversation,  when  he 
was  not  aware  who  I  was,  I  am  convinced  he  would  do  you 
any  injury  in  his  power." 

"He  shall  never  have  me  in  his  power,  I  promise  him. 
We  shall  take  care  of  that.     But  what  did  he  say? " 

Lord  Colambre  repeated  the  substance  of  what  Mordicai 
had  said,  and  Lord  Clonbrony  reiterated — "Damned  rascal ! 
— damned  rascal!  I'll  get  out  of  his  hands;  I'll  have  no 
more  to  do  with  him."  But,  as  he  spoke,  he  exhibited 
evident  symptoms  of  uneasiness,  moving  continually,  and 
shifting  from  leg  to  leg  like  a  foundered  horse. 

He  could  not  bring  himself  positively  to  deny  that  he 
had  debts  and  difficulties;  but  he  would  by  no  means  open 
the  state  of  his  affairs  to  his  son — V  No  father  is  called  upon 
to  do  that,"  said  he  to  himself;  "none  but  a  fool  would 
do  it." 

Lord  Colambre,  perceiving  his  father's  embarrassment, 
withdrew  his  eyes,  respectfully  reframed  from  all  further 
inquiries,  and  simply  repeated  the  assurance  he  had  made 
to  his  mother,  that  he  would  put  his  family  to  no  additional 
expense ;  and  that,  if  it  was  necessary,  he  would  willingly 
give  up  half  his  allowance. 

"Not  at  all — not  at  all,  my  dear  boy,"  said  his  father; 
"I  would  rather  cramp  myself  than  that  you  should  be 
cramped,  a  thousand  times  over.     But  it  is  all  my  Lady 

23 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Clonbrony's  nonsense.  If  people  would  but,  as  they 
ought,  stay  in  their  own  country,  live  on  their  own  estates, 
and  kill  their  own  mutton,  money  need  never  be  wanting." 

For  killing  their  own  mutton,  Lord  Colambre  did  not  see 
the  indispensable  necessity;  but  he  rejoiced  to  hear  his 
father  assert  that  people  should  reside  in  their  own  country. 

"Ay,"  cried  Lord  Clonbrony,  to  strengthen  his  asser- 
tion, as  he  always  thought  it  necessary  to  do,  by  quoting 
some  other  person's  opinion.  "So  Sir  Terence  O'Fay 
always  says,  and  that's  the  reason  your  mother  can't  en- 
dure poor  Terry.  You  don't  know  Terry?  No,  you  have 
only  seen  him ;  but,  indeed,  to  see  him  is  to  know  him ; 
for  he  is  the  most  off-hand,  good  fellow  in  Europe." 

"I  don't  pretend  to  know  him  yet,"  said  Lord  Colambre. 
"I  am  not  so  presumptuous  as  to  form  my  opinion  at  first 
sight." 

' '  Oh,  curse  your  modesty  !  "  interrupted  Lord  Clonbrony ; 
"you  mean,  you  don't  pretend  to  like  him  yet;  but  Terry 
will  make  you  like  him.  I  defy  you  not.  I'll  introduce 
you  to  him — him  to  you,  I  mean — most  warm-hearted, 
generous  dog  upon  earth — convivial — jovial — with  wit  and 
humour  enough,  in  his  own  way,  to  split  you — split  me  if 
he  has  not.  You  need  not  cast  down  your  eyes,  Colambre. 
What's  your  objection? " 

"I  have  made  none,  sir;  but,  if  you  urge  me,  I  can  only 
say  that,  if  he  has  all  these  good  qualities,  it  is  to  be  re- 
gretted that  he  does  not  look  and  speak  a  little  more  like 
a  gentleman." 

"A  gentleman  !  he  is  as  much  a  gentleman  as  any  of  your 
formal  prigs — not  the  exact  Cambridge  cut,  maybe.  Curse 
your  English  education !  'Twas  none  of  my  advice.  I 
suppose  you  mean  to  take  after  your  mother  in  the  notion 
that  nothing  can  be  good,  or  genteel,  but  what's  English." 

"Far  from  it,  sir;  I  assure  you,  I  am  as  warm  a  friend  to 
Ireland  as  your  heart  could  wish.  You  will  have  no  reason, 
in  that  respect  at  least,  nor,  I  hope,  in  any  other,  to  curse 
my  English  education ;  and,  if  my  gratitude  and  affection 
can  avail,  you  shall  never  regret  the  kindness  and  liberality 
with  which  you  have,  I  fear,  distressed  yourself  to  afford 

24 


'"  Mordecai's  !  "  exclaimed  Lord  Clonljiony,  \vith  a  sudden 
blush,  which  he  endeavoured  to  hide  by  taking  snuff.' 


THE  ABSENTEE 

me  the  means  of  becoming  all  that  a  British  nobleman 
ought  to  be." 

"Gad!  you  distress  me  now!"  said  Lord  Clonbrony, 
"and  I  didn't  expect  it,  or  I  wouldn't  make  a  fool  of  my- 
self this  way,"  added  he,  ashamed  of  his  emotion,  and 
whiffling  it  off.  "You  have  an  Irish  heart,  that  I  see, 
which  no  education  can  spoil.  But  you  must  like  Terry. 
I'll  give  you  time,  as  he  said  to  me,  when  first  he  taught 
me  to  like  usquebaugh.     Good  morning  to  you !  " 

Whilst  Lady  Clonbrony,  in  consequence  of  her  residence 
in  London,  had  become  more  of  a  fine  lady,  Lord  Clon- 
brony, since  he  left  Ireland,  had  become  less  of  a  gentle- 
man. Lady  Clonbrony,  born  an  Englishwoman,  disclaiming 
and  disencumbering  herself  of  all  the  Irish  in  town,  had, 
by  giving  splendid  entertainments,  at  an  enormous  expense, 
made  her  way  into  a  certain  set  of  fashionable  company. 
But  Lord  Clonbrony,  who  was  somebody  in  Ireland,  who 
was  a  great  person  in  Dublin,  found  himself  nobody  in 
England,  a  mere  cipher  in  London.  Looked  down  upon 
by  the  fine  people  with  whom  his  lady  associated,  and 
heartily  weary  of  them,  he  retreated  from  them  altogether, 
and  sought  entertainment  and  self-complacency  in  society 
beneath  him — indeed,  both  in  rank  and  education,  but  in 
which  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  himself  the  first 
person  in  company.  Of  these  associates,  the  first  in  tal- 
ents, and  in  jovial  profligacy,  was  Sir  Terence  O'Fay — a 
man  of  low  extraction,  who  had  been  knighted  by  an  Irish 
lord-lieutenant  in  some  convivial  frolic.  No  one  could  tell 
a  good  story,  or  sing  a  good  song  better  than  Sir  Terence; 
he  exaggerated  his  native  brogue,  and  his  natural  propens- 
ity to  blunder,  caring  little  whether  the  company  laughed 
at  him  or  with  him,  provided  they  laughed.  "Live  and 
laugh — laugh  and  live,"  was  his  motto;  and  certainly  he 
lived  on  laughing,  as  well  as  many  better  men  can  contrive 
to  live  on  a  thousand  a  year. 

Lord  Clonbrony  brought  Sir  Terence  home  with  him 
next  day  to  introduce  him  to  Lord  Colambre ;  and  it  hap- 
pened that  on  this  occasion  Terence  appeared  to  peculiar 
disadvantage,  because,  like  many  other  people,  "II  gatoit 

25 


THE  ABSENTEE 

resprit    qu'il  avoit    en   voulant   avoir  celui  qu'il  n'avoit 

pas." 

Having  been  apprised  that  Lord  Colambre  was  a  fine 
scholar,  fresh  from  Cambridge,  and  being  conscious  of  his 
own  deficiencies  of  literature,  instead  of  trusting  to  his 
natural  talents,  he  summoned  to  his  aid,  with  no  small 
effort,  all  the  scraps  of  learning  he  had  acquired  in  early 
days,  and  even  brought  before  the  company  all  the  gods 
and  goddesses  with  whom  he  had  formed  an  acquaintance 
at  school.  Though  embarrassed  by  this  unusual  encum- 
brance of  learning,  he  endeavoured  to  make  all  subservient 
to  his  immediate  design,  of  paying  his  court  to  Lady  Clon- 
brony,  by  forwarding  the  object  she  had  most  anxiously  in 
view — the  match  between  her  son  and  Miss  Broadhurst. 

"And  so,  Miss  Nugent,"  said  he,  not  daring,  with  all 
his  assurance,  to  address  himself  directly  to  Lady  Clon- 
bron)^ — "and  so,  Miss  Nugent,  you  are  going  to  have  great 
doings,  I'm  told,  and  a  wonderful  grand  gala.  There's 
nothing  in  the  wide  world  equal  to  being  in  a  good,  hand- 
some crowd.  No  later  now  than  the  last  ball  at  the  Castle 
— that  was  before  I  left  Dublin,  Miss  Nugent — the  apart- 
ments, owing  to  the  popularity  of  my  lady-lieutenant,  was 
so  throng — so  throng — that  I  remember  very  well,  in  the 
doorway,  a  lady— and  a  very  genteel  woman  she  was  too, 
though  a  stranger  to  me — saying  to  me,  'Sir,  your  finger's 
in  my  ear.'  'I  know  it,  madam,'  says  I,  'but  I  can't  take 
it  out  till  the  crowd  give  me  elbow  room.' 

"But  it's  gala  I'm  thinking  of  now.  I  hear  you  are  to 
have  the  golden  Venus,  my  Lady  Clonbrony,  won't  you?  " 

"Sir!" 

This  freezing  monosyllable  notwithstanding,  Sir  Terence 
pursued  his  course  fluently.  "The  golden  Venus! — Sure, 
Miss  Nugent,  you,  that  are  so  quick,  can't  but  know  I 
would  apostrophise  Miss  Broadhurst  that  is,  but  that  won't 
be  long  so,  I  hope.  My  Lord  Colambre,  have  you  seen 
much  yet  of  that  young  lady? " 

"No,  sir." 

"Then  I  hope  you  won't  be  long  so.  I  hear  great  talk 
now  of  the  Venus  of  Mcdicis,  and  the  Venus  of  this  and 

26 


THE  ABSENTEE 

that,  with  the  Florence  Venus,  and  the  sable  Venus,  and 
that  other  Venus,  that's  washing  of  her  hair,  and  a  hun- 
dred other  Venuses,  some  good,  some  bad.  But,  be  that 
as  it  will,  my  lord,  trust  a  fool — ye  may,  when  he  tells 
you  truth — the  golden  Venus  is  the  only  one  on  earth 
that  can  stand,  or  that  will  stand,  through  all  ages  and 
temperatures;  for  gold  rules  the  court,  gold  rules  the 
camp,,  and  men  below,  and  heaven  above." 

"Heaven  above!  Take  care,  Terry!  Do  you  know 
what  you're  saying?"  interrupted  Lord  Clonbrony. 

"Do  I?  Don't  I?  "  replied  Terry.  "Deny,  if  you  please, 
my  lord,  that  it  was  for  a  golden  pippin  that  the  three 
goddesses  fit — and  that  the  Hipponienes  was  about  golden 
apples — and  did  not  Hercules  rob  a  garden  for  golden  ap- 
ples?—  and  did  not  the  pious  Eneas  himself  take  a  golden 
branch  with  him,  to  make  himself  welcome  to  his  father 
in  hell?  "  said  Sir  Terence,  winking  at  Lord  Colambre. 

"Why,  Terry,  you  know  more  about  books  than  I  should 
have  suspected,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony. 

"Nor  you  would  not  have  suspected  me  to  have  such 
a  great  acquaintance  among  the  goddesses  neither,  would 
you,  my  lord?  But,  apropos,  before  we  quit,  of  what 
material,  think  ye,  was  that  same  Venus's  famous  girdle, 
now,  that  made  roses  and  lilies  so  quickly  appear?  Why, 
what  was  it,  but  a  girdle  of  sterling  gold,  I'll  engage? — for 
gold  is  the  only  true  thing  for  a  young  man  to  look  after  in 
a  wife." 

Sir  Terence  paused,  but  no  applause  ensued. 

"Let  them  talk  of  Cupids  and  darts,  and  the  mother  of 
the  Loves  and  Graces.  Minerva  may  sing  odes  and  dytham- 
brics,  or  whatsoever  her  wisdomship  pleases.  Let  her  sing, 
or  let  her  say  she'll  never  get  a  husband  in  this  world  or 
the  other,  without  she  had  a  good  thumping /^r//«,  and 
then  she'd  go  off  like  wildfire." 

"No,  no,  Terry,  there  you're  out;  Minerva  has  too  bad 
a  character  for  learning  to  be  a  favourite  with  gentlemen," 
said  Lord  Clonbrony. 

"Tut— Don't  tell  me!— I'd  get  her  off  before  you  could 
say  Jack  Robinson,  and  thank  you  too,  if  she  had  fifty 

27 


THE  ABSENTEE 

thousand  down,  or  a  thousand  a  year  in  land.  Would  you 
have  a  man  so  d — d  nice  as  to  balk  when  house  and  land  is 
a-o"oing — a-going — a-going! — because  of  the  encumbrance 
of  a  little  learning?  I  never  heard  that  Miss  Broadhurst 
was  anything  of  a  learned  lady." 

"Miss  Broadhurst!  "  said  Grace  Nugent;  "how  did  you 
get  round  to  Miss  Broadhurst? " 

"Oh!  by  the  way  of  Tipperary,"  said  Lord  Colambre. 
"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  lord,  it  was  apropos  to  a  good 
fortune,  which,  I  hope,  will  not  be  out  of  your  way,  even 
if  you  went  by  Tipperary.  She  has,  besides  ^ioo,cxx)  in 
the  funds,  a  clear  landed  property  of  i^io,ooo  per  annum. 
Well!  some  people  talk  of  morality,  and  some  of  religion, 
bnt  give  me  a  little  snug  PROPERTY.  But,  my  lord,  I've  a  . 
little  business  to  transact  this  morning,  and  must  not  be 
idling  and  indulging  myself  here."  So,  bowing  to  the 
ladies,  he  departed. 

"Really,  I  am  glad  that  man  is  gone,"  said  Lady  Clon- 
brony.  "What  a  relief  to  one's  ears!  I  am  sure  I  wonder, 
my  lord,  how  you  can  bear  to  carry  that  strange  creature 
always  about  with  you — so  vulgar  as  he  is." 

"He  diverts  me,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony,  "while  many  of 
your  correct-mannered  fine  ladies  or  gentlemen  put  me  to 
sleep.  What  signifies  what  accent  people  speak  in  that 
have  nothing  to  say — hey,  Colambre?  " 

Lord  Colambre,  from  respect  to  his  father,  did  not  ex- 
press his  opinion,  but  his  aversion  to  Sir  Terence  O'Fay 
was  stronger  even  than  his  mother's;  though  Lady  Clon- 
brony's  detestation  of  him  was  much  increased  by  per- 
ceiving that  his  coarse  hints  about  Miss  Broadhurst  had 
operated  against  her  favourite  scheme. 

The  next  morning,  at  breakfast.  Lord  Clonbrony  talked 
of  bringing  Sir  Terence  with  him  that  night  to  her  gala. 
She  absolutely  grew  pale  with  horror. 

"Good  heavens!     Lady  Langdale,  Mrs.  Dareville,  Lady 

Pococke,  Lady  Chatterton,  Lady  D ,  Lady  G ,  his 

Grace  of  V ;  what  would  they  think  of  him?    And  Miss 

Broadhurst  to  see  him  going  about  with  my  Lord  Clon- 
brony!"— It  could  not  be.     No;  her  ladyship  made  the 

28 


THE  ABSENTEE 

most  solemn  and  desperate  protestation,  that  she  would 
sooner  give  up  her  gala  altogether — tie  up  the  knocker — say- 
she  was  sick — rather  be  sick,  or  be  dead,  than  be  obliged 
to  have  such  a  creature  as  Sir  Terence  O'Fay  at  her  gala.  ■ 

"Have  it  your  own  way,  my  dear,  as  you  have  every- 
thing else!  "  cried  Lord  Clonbrony,  taking  up  his  hat,  and 
preparing  to  decamp;  "but,  take  notice,  if  you  won't  re- 
ceive him  you  need  not  expect  me.  So  a  good  morning 
to  you,  my  Lady  Clonbrony.  You  may  find  a  worse  friend 
in  need,  yet,  than  that  same  Sir  Terence  O'Fay." 

"I  trust  I  shall  never  be  in  need,  my  lord,"  replied  her 
ladyship.  "It  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  I  were,  with 
the  fortune  I  brought." 

"Oh!  that  fortune  of  hers!"  cried  Lord  Clonbrony, 
stopping  both  his  ears  as  he  ran  out  of  the  room ;  "shall  I 
never  hear  the  end  of  that  fortune,  when  I've  seen  the  end 
of  it  long  ago?  " 

During  this  matrimonial  dialogue,  Grace  Nugent  and 
Lord  Colambre  never  once  looked  at  each  other.  Grace 
was  very  diligently  trying  the  changes  that  could  be  made 
in  the  positions  of  a  china-mouse,  a  cat,  a  dog,  a  cup,  and 
a  Brahmin,  on  the  mantlepiece ;  Lord  Colambre  as  dili- 
gently reading  the  newspaper, 

"Now,  my  dear  Colambre,"  said  Lady  Clonbrony,  "put 
down  the  paper,  and  listen  to  me.  Let  me  entreat  you 
not  to  neglect  Miss  Broadhurst  to-night,  as  I  know  that 
the  family  come  here  chiefly  on  your  account." 

"My  dear  mother,  I  never  can  neglect  any  deserving 
young  lady,  and  particularly  one  of  your  guests;  but  I 
shall  be  careful  not  to  do  more  than  not  to  neglect,  for  I 
never  will  pretend  what  I  do  not  feel." 

"But,  my  dear  Colambre,  Miss  Broadhurst  is  everything 
you  could  wish,  except  being  a  beauty." 

"Perhaps,  madam,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  fixing  his  eyes 
on  Grace  Nugent,  "you  think  that  I  can  see  no  farther 
than  a  handsome  face?" 

The  unconscious  Grace  Nugent  now  made  a  warm  eulo- 
gium  of  Miss  Broadhurst's  sense,  and  wit,  and  independ- 
ence of  character. 

29 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"I  did  not  know  that  Miss  Broadhurst  was  a  friend  of 
yours,  Miss  Nugent?  " 

"She  is,  I  assure  you,  a  friend  of  mine;  and,  as  a  proof, 
I  will  not  praise  her  at  this  moment.  I  will  go  farther  still 
— I  will  promise  that  I  never  will  praise  her  to  you  till  you 
begin  to  praise  her  to  me." 

Lord  Colambre  smiled,  and  now  listened,  as  if  he  wished 
that  Grace  should  go  on  speaking,  even  of  Miss  Broad- 
hurst. 

"That's  my  sweet  Grace!"  cried  Lady  Clonbrony. 
"Oh!  she  knows  how  to  manage  these  men — not  one  of 
them  can  resist  her!  " 

Lord  Colambre,  for  his  part,  did  not  deny  the  truth  of 
this  assertion. 

"Grace,"  added  Lady  Clonbrony,  "make  him  promise 
to  do  as  we  would  have  him." 

"No;  promises  are  dangerous  things  to  ask  or  to  give," 
said  Grace.  "Men  and  naughty  children  never  make  pro- 
mises, especially  promises  to  be  good,  without  longing  to 
break  them  the  next  minute." 

"Well,  at  least,  child,  persuade  him,  I  charge  you,  to 
make  my  gala  go  off  well.  That's  the  first  thing  we  ought 
to  think  of  now.  Ring  the  bell !  And  all  heads  and  hands 
I  put  in  requisition  for  the  gala." 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  opening  of  her  gala,  the  display  of  her  splendid 
reception-rooms,  the  Turkish  tent,  the  Alhambra, 
the  pagoda,  formed  a  proud  moment  to  Lady  Clon- 
brony. Much  did  she  enjoy,  and  much  too  naturally,  not- 
withstanding all  her  efforts  to  be  stiff  and  stately,  much 
too  naturally  did  she  show  her  enjoyment  of  the  surprise 
excited  in  some  and  affected  by  others  on  their  first 
entrance. 

One  young,  very  young  lady  expressed  her  astonishment 
so  audibly  as  to  attract  the  notice  of  all  the  bystanders. 
Lady  Clonbrony,  delighted,  seized  both  her  hands,  shook 

30 


THE  ABSENTEE 

them,  and  laughed  heartily;  then,  as  the  young  lady  with 
her  party  passed  on,  her  ladyship  recovered  herself,  draw- 
up  her  head,  and  said  to  the  company  near  her — 

"Poor  thing !  I  hope  I  covered  her  little  naivete  properly? 
How  NEW  she  must  be !  " 

Then,  with  well-practised  dignity,  and  half-subdued  self- 
complacency  of  aspect,  her  ladyship  went  gliding  about — 
most  importantly  busy,  introducing  my  lady  tJiis  to  the 
sphynx  candelabra,  and  my  lady  tJiat  to  the  Trebisond 
trellice;  placing  some  delightfully  for  the  perspective  of 
the  Alhambra ;  establishing  others  quite  to  her  satisfaction 
on  seraglio  ottomans;  and  honouring  others  with  a  seat 
under  the  statira  canopy.  Receiving  and  answering  com- 
pliments from  successive  crowds  of  select  friends,  imagining 
herself  the  mirror  of  fashion,  and  the  admiration  of  the 
whole  world,  Lady  Clonbrony  was,  for  her  hour,  as  happy 
certainly  as  ever  woman  was  in  similar  circumstances. 

Her  son  looked  at  her,  and  wished  that  this  happiness 
could  last.  Naturally  inclined  to  sympathy,  Lord  Colam- 
bre  reproached  himself  for  not  feeling  as  gay  at  this  instant 
as  the  occasion  required.  But  the  festive  scene,  the  blazing 
lights,  the  "universal  hubbub,"  failed  to  raise  his  spirits. 
As  a  dead  weight  upon  them  hung  the  remembrance 
of  Mordicai's  denunciations;  and,  through  the  midst  of 
this  Eastern  magnificence,  this  unbounded  profusion,  he 
thought  he  saw  future  domestic  misery  and  ruin  to  those 
he  loved  best  in  the  world. 

The  only  object  present  on  which  his  eye  rested  with 
pleasure  was  Grace  Nugent.  Beautiful  —  in  elegant  and 
dignified  simplicity  —  thoughtless  of  herself  —  yet  with  a 
look  of  thought,  and  with  an  air  of  melancholy,  which  ac- 
corded exactly  with  his  own  feelings,  and  which  he  believed 
to  arise  from  the  same  reflections  that  had  passed  in  his  own 
mind. 

"Miss  Broadhurst,  Colambre!  all  the  Broadhursts!"  said 
his  mother,  wakening  him,  as  she  passed  by,  to  receive 
them  as  they  entered.  Miss  Broadhurst  appeared,  plainly 
dressed — plainly,  even  to  singularity —  without  any  dia- 
monds or  ornament. 

31 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Brought  Philippa  to  you,  my  dear  Lady  Clonbrony, 
this  figure,  rather  than  not  bring  her  at  all,"  said  puffing 
Mrs.  Broadhurst;  "and  had  all  the  difficulty  in  the  world 
to  get  her  out  at  all,  and  now  I've  promised  she  shall  stay 
but  half  an  hour.  Sore  throat — terrible  cold  she  took  in 
the  morning.  I'll  swear  for  her,  she'd  not  have  come  for 
any  one  but  you." 

The  young  lady  did  not  seem  inclined  to  swear,  or  even 
to  say  this  for  herself;  she  stood  wonderfully  unconcerned 
and  passive,  with  an  expression  of  humour  lurking  in  her 
eyes,  and  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth ;  whilst  Lady 
Clonbrony  was  "shocked,"  and  "gratified,"  and  "con- 
cerned," and  "flattered";  and  whilst  everybody  was  hop- 
ing, and  fearing,  and  busying  themselves  about  her — "Miss 
Broadhurst,  you'd  better  sit  here!" — "Oh,  for  Heaven's 
sake!  Miss  Broadhurst,  not  there!  "  "Miss  Broadhurst,  if 
you'll  take  my  opinion  "  ;  and  "Miss  Broadhurst,  if  I  may 
advise " 

"Grace  Nugent !  "  cried  Lady  Clonbrony — "Miss  Broad- 
hurst always  listens  to  you.  Do,  my  dear,  persuade  Miss 
Broadhurst  to  take  care  of  herself,  and  let  us  take  her  to 
the  inner  little  pagoda,  where  she  can  be  so  warm  and  so 
retired — the  very  thing  for  an  invalid.  Colambre !  pioneer 
the  way  for  us,  for  the  crowd's  immense." 

Lady  Anne  and  Lady  Catharine  H ,  Lady  Lang- 
dale's  daughters, were  at  this  time  leaning  on  Miss  Nugent's 
arm,  and  moved  along  with  this  party  to  the  inner  pagoda. 
There  was  to  be  cards  in  one  room,  music  in  another,  danc- 
ing in  a  third,  and,  in  this  little  room,  there  were  prints 
and  chess-boards,  etc. 

"Here  you  will  be  quite  to  yourselves,"  said  Lady  Clon- 
brony; "let  me  establish  you  comfortably  in  this,  which  I 
call  my  sanctuary — my  snuggery — Colambre,  that  little 
table!  —  Miss  Broadhurst,  you  play  chess?  Colambre, 
you'll  play  with  Miss  Broadhurst " 

"I  thank  your  ladyship,"  said  Miss  Broadhurst,  "but  I 
know  nothing  of  chess,  but  the  moves.  Lady  Catharine, 
you  will  play,  and  I  will  look  on." 

Miss  Broadhurst  drew  her  seat  to  the  fire;  Lady  Cathar< 

32 


THE  ABSENTEE 

ine  sat  down  to  play  with  Lord  Colambre ;  Lady  Clonbrony 
withdrew,  again  recommending  Miss  Broadhurst  to  Grace 
Nugent's  care.  After  some  commonplace  conversation, 
Lady  Anne  H ,  looking  at  the  company  in  the  adjoin- 
ing apartment,  asked  her  sister  how  old  Miss  Somebody 
was,  who  passed  by.  This  led  to  reflections  upon  the 
comparative  age  and  youthful  appearance  of  several  of 
their  acquaintance,  and  upon  the  care  with  which  mothers 
concealed  the  age  of  their  daughters.  Glances  passed  be- 
tween Lady  Catharine  and  Lady  Anne. 

"For  my  part,"  said  Miss  Broadhurst,  "my  mother 
would  labour  that  point  of  secrecy  in  vain  for  me;  for  I  am 
willing  to  tell  my  age,  even  if  my  face  did  not  tell  it  for 
me,  to  all  whom  it  may  concern.  I  am  past  three-and- 
twenty — shall  be  four-and-twenty  the  5th  of  next  July." 

"Three-and-twenty !  Bless  me!  I  thought  you  were 
not  twenty!  "  cried  Lady  Anne. 

"Four-and-twenty  next  July! — impossible!  "  cried  Lady 
Catharine. 

"Very  possible,"  said  Miss  Broadhurst,  quite  uncon- 
cerned, 

"Now,  Lord  Colambre,  would  you  believe  it?  Can  you 
believe  it?  "  asked  Lady  Catharine. 

"Yes,  he  can,"  said  Miss  Broadhurst.  "Don't  you  see 
that  he  believes  it  as  firmly  as  you  and  I  do?  Why  should 
you  force  his  lordship  to  pay  a  compliment  contrary  to  his 
better  judgment,  or  to  extort  a  smile  from  him  under  false 
pretences?  I  am  sure  he  sees  that  you,  ladies,  and  I  trust 
he  perceives  that  I,  do  not  think  the  worse  of  him  for 
this. ' ' 

Lord  Colambre  smiled  now  without  any  false  pretence ; 
and,  relieved  at  once  from  all  apprehension  of  her  joining 
in  his  mother's  views,  or  of  her  expecting  particular  atten- 
tion from  him,  he  became  at  ease  with  Miss  Broadhurst, 
showed  a  desire  to  converse  with  her,  and  listened  eagerly 
to  what  she  said.  He  recollected  that  Grace  Nugent  had 
told  him  that  this  young  lady  had  no  common  character; 
and,  neglecting  his  move  at  chess,  he  looked  up  at  Grace 
as  much  as  to  say,  ''Draw  her  out,  pray." 

^  33 


THE  ABSENTEE 

But  Grace  was  too  good  a  friend  to  comply  with  that 
request ;  she  left  Miss  Broadhurst  to  unfold  her  own  char- 
acter. 

"It  is  your  move,  my  lord,"  said  Lady  Catharine. 

"I  beg  your  ladyship's  pardon " 

"Are  not  these  rooms  beautiful,  Miss  Broadhurst?  "  said 
Lady  Catharine,  determined,  if  possible,  to  turn  the  con- 
versation into  a  commonplace,  safe  channel ;  for  she  had 
just  felt,  what  most  of  Miss  Broadhurst's  acquaintance  had 
in  their  turn  felt,  that  she  had  an  odd  way  of  startling 
people,  by  setting  their  own  secret  little  motives  suddenly 
before  them. 

"Are  not  these  rooms  beautiful? " 
Beautiful ! — Certainly. 

The  beauty  of  the  rooms  would  have  answered  Lady 
Catharine's  purpose  for  some  time,  had  not  Lady  Anne 
imprudently  brought  the  conversation  back  again  to  Miss 
Broadhurst. 

"Do  your  know,  Miss  Broadhurst,"  said  she,  "that  if  I 
had  fifty  sore  throats,  I  could  not  have  refrained  from  my 
diamonds  on  this  GALA  night;  and  such  diamonds  as  you 
have !  Now,  really,  I  could  not  believe  you  to  be  the  same 
person  we  saw  blazing  at  the  opera  the  other  night!  " 

"Really!  could  not  you,  Lady  Anne?  That  is  the  very 
thing  that  entertains  me.  I  only  wish  that  I  could  lay 
aside  my  fortune  sometimes,  as  well  as  my  diamonds,  and 
sec  how  few  people  would  know  me  then.  Might  not  I, 
Grace,  by  the  golden  rule,  which,  next  to  practice,  is  the 
best  rule  in  the  world,  calculate  and  answer  that  question?  " 

"I  am  persuaded,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  "that  Miss 
Broadhurst  has  friends  on  whom  the  experiment  would 
make  no  difference." 

"I  am  convinced  of  it,"  said  Miss  Broadhurst;  "and 
that  is  what  makes  me  tolerably  happy,  though  I  have  the 
misfortune  to  be  an  heiress." 

"That  is  the  oddest  speech,"  said  Lady  Anne.  "Now 
I  should  so  like  to  be  a  great  heiress,  and  to  have,  like  you, 
such  thousands  and  thousands  at  command." 

"And  what  can  the  thousands  upon  thousands  do  for 

34 


THE  ABSENTEE 

me?  Hearts,  you  know,  Lady  Anne,  are  to  be  won  only 
by  radiant  eyes.  Bought  hearts  your  ladyship  certainly 
would  not  recommend.  They're  such  poor  things — no 
wear  at  all.  Turn  them  which  way  you  will,  you  can  make 
nothing  of  them." 

"You've  tried  then,  have  you?  "  said  Lady  Catharine. 

"To  my  cost.  Very  nearly  taken  in  by  them  half  a 
dozen  times;  for  they  are  brought  to  me  by  dozens;  and 
they  are  so  made  up  for  sale,  and  the  people  do  so  swear 
to  you  that  it's  real,  real  love,  and  it  looks  so  like  it;  and, 
if  you  stoop  to  examine  it,  you  hear  it  pressed  upon  you 
by  such  elegant  oaths — By  all  that's  lovely! — By  all  my 
hopes  of  happiness! — By  your  own  charming  self!  Why, 
what  can  one  do  but  look  like  a  fool,  and  believe ;  for  these 
men,  at  the  time,  all  look  so  like  gentlemen,  that  one  can- 
not bring  oneself  flatly  to  tell  them  that  they  are  cheats 
and  swindlers,  that  they  are  perjuring  their  precious  souls. 
Besides,  to  call  a  lover  a  perjured  creature  is  to  encourage 
him.  He  would  have  a  right  to  complain  if  you  went  back 
after  that." 

"Oh  dear!  what  a  move  was  there  !  "  cried  Lady  Cathar- 
ine. "Miss  Broadhurst  is  so  entertaining  to-night,  not- 
withstanding her  sore  throat,  that  one  can  positively  attend 
to  nothing  else.  And  she  talks  of  love  and  lovers  too  with 
such  connoissancc  de  fait — counts  her  lovers  by  dozens,  tied 
up  in  true-lovers'  knots!  " 

"Lovers! — no,  no!  Did  I  say  lovers? — suitors  I  should 
have  said.  There's  nothing  less  like  a  lover,  a  true  lover, 
than  a  suitor,  as  all  the  world  knows,  ever  since  the  days 
of  Penelope.  Dozens ! — never  had  a  lover  in  my  life  !  And 
fear,  with  much  reason,!  never  shall  have  one  to  my  mind." 

"My  lord,  you've  given  up  the  game,"  cried  Lady 
Catharine;  "but  you  make  no  battle." 

"It  would  be  so  vain  to  combat  against  your  ladyship," 
said  Lord  Colambre,  rising,  and  bowing  politely  to  Lady 
Catharine,  but  turning  the  next  instant  to  converse  with 
Miss  Broadhurst. 

"But  when  I  talked  of  liking  to  be  an  heiress,"  said 
Lady  Anne,  "I  was  not  thinking  of  lovers." 

35 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Certainly.  One  is  not  always  thinking  of  lovers,  you 
know,"  added  Lady  Catharine. 

"Not  always,"  replied  Miss  Broadhurst.  "Well,  lovers 
out  of  the  question  on  all  sides,  what  would  your  ladyship 
buy  with  the  thousands  upon  thousands?" 

"Oh,  everything,  if  I  were  you,"  said  Lady  Anne. 

"Rank,  to  begin  with,"  said  Lady  Catharine. 

"Still  my  old  objection — bought  rank  is  but  a  shabby 
thing." 

"But  there  is  so  little  difference  made  between  bought 
and  hereditary  rank  in  these  days,"  said  Lady  Catharine. 

"I  see  a  great  deal  still,"  said  Miss  Broadhurst;  "so 
much,  that  I  would  never  buy  a  title." 

"A  title  without  birth,  to  be  sure,"  said  Lady  Anne, 
"would  not  be  so  well  worth  buying ;  and  as  birth  certainly 
is  not  to  be  bought " 

"And  even  birth,  were  it  to  be  bought,  I  would  not 
buy,"  said  Miss  Broadhurst,  "unless  I  could  be  sure  to 
have  with  it  all  the  politeness,  all  the  noble  sentiments,  all 
the  magnanimity — in  short,  all  that  should  grace  and  dig- 
nify high  birth." 

"Admirable!"  said  Lord  Colambre.  Grace  Nugent 
smiled. 

"Lord  Colambre,  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  put  my 
mother  in  mind  I  must  go  away?" 

"I  am  bound  to  obey,  but  I  am  very  sorry  for  it,"  said 
his  lordship. 

"Are  we  to  have  any  dancing  to-night,  I  wonder? "  said 
Lady  Catharine.  "Miss  Nugent,  I  am  afraid  we  have 
made  Miss  Broadhurst  talk  so  much,  in  spite  of  her  hoarse- 
ness, that  Lady  Clonbrony  will  be  quite  angry  with  us. 
And  here  she  comes !  " 

My  Lady  Clonbrony  came  to  hope,  to  beg,  that  Miss 
Broadhurst  would  not  think  of  running  away;  but  Miss 
Broadhurst  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  stay.  Lady 
Clonbrony  was  delighted  to  see  that  her  son  assisted  Grace 
Nugent  most  carefully  in  shawling  Miss  Broadhurst;  his 
lordship  conducted  her  to  her  carriage,  and  his  mother 
drew  many  happy  auguries  from  the  gallantry  of  his  man- 

36 


THE  ABSENTEE 

per,  and  from  the  young  lady's  having  stayed  three- 
quarters,  instead  of  half  an  hour — a  circumstance  which 
Lady  Catharine  did  not  fail  to  remark. 

The  dancing,  which,  under  various  pretences.  Lady 
Clonbrony  had  delayed  till  Lord  Colambre  was  at  liberty, 
began  immediately  after  Miss  Broadhurst's  departure;  and 
the  chalked  mosaic  pavement  of  the  Alhambra  was,  in  a 
few  minutes,  effaced  by  the  dancers'  feet.  How  transient 
are  all  human  joys,  especially  those  of  vanity!  Even  on 
this  long  meditated,  this  long  desired,  this  gala  night,  Lady 
Clonbrony  found  her  triumph  incomplete — inadequate  to 
her  expectations.  For  the  first  hour  all  had  been  compli- 
ment, success,  and  smiles;  presently  came  the  buts,  and 
the  hesitated  objections,  and  the  "damning  with  faint 
praise."  All  that  could  be  borne.  Everybody  has  his 
taste — and  one  person's  taste  is  as  good  as  another's;  and 
while  she  had  Mr.  Soho  to  cite.  Lady  Clonbrony  thought 
she  might  be  well  satisfied.  But  she  could  not  be  satis- 
fied with  Colonel  Heathcock,  who,  dressed  in  black,  had 
stretched  his  "fashionable  length  of  limb"  under  the  statira 
canopy  upon  the  snow-white  swan-down  couch.  When, 
after  having  monopolised  attention,  and  been  the  subject 
of  much  bad  wit,  about  black  swans  and  rare  birds,  and 
swans  being  geese  and  geese  being  swans,  the  colonel  con- 
descended to  rise,  and,  as  Mrs.  Dareville  said,  to  vacate  his 
couch,  that  couch  was  no  longer  white — the  black  impres- 
sion of  the  colonel  remained  on  the  sullied  snow. 

"Eh,  now!  really  didn't  recollect  I  was  in  black,"  was 
all  the  apology  he  made.  Lady  Clonbrony  was  particu- 
larly vexed  that  the  appearance  of  the  statira  canopy 
should  be  spoiled  before  the  effect  had  been  seen  by  Lady 

Pococke,  and  Lady  Chatterton,  and  Lady  G ,  Lady 

P ,  and  the  Duke  of  V ,  and  a  party  of  superlative 

fashionables,  who  had  promised  to  look  in  upon  her,  but 
who,  late  as  it  was,  had  not  yet  arrived.  They«came  in  at 
last.  But  Lady  Clonbrony  had  no  reason  to  regret  for 
their  sake  the  statira  couch.  It  would  have  been  lost  upon 
them,  as  was  everything  else  which  she  had  prepared  with 
so  much  pains  and  cost  to  excite  their  admiration.     They 

37 


THE  ABSENTEE 

came  resolute  not  to  admire.  Skilled  in  the  art  of  making 
others  unhappy,  they  just  looked  round  with  an  air  of 
apathy.  "Ah!  you've  had  Soho ! — Soho  has  done  won- 
ders for  you  here! — Vastly  well! — Vastly  well!— Soho's 
very  clever  in  his  way!  " 

Others  of  great  importance  came  in,  full  of  some  slight 
accident  that  had  happened  to  themselves,  or  their  horses, 
or  their  carriages;  and,  with  privileged  selfishness,  en- 
grossed the  attention  of  all  within  their  sphere  of  conversa- 
tion. Well,  Lady  Clonbrony  got  over  all  this,  and  got 
over  the  history  of  a  letter  about  a  chimney  that  was  on 

fire,  a  week  ago,  at  the  Duke  of  V 's  old  house,   in 

Brecknockshire.     In  gratitude  for  the  smiling  patience  with 

which  she  listened  to  him,  his  Grace  of  V fixed  his 

glass  to  look  at  the  Alhambra,  and  had  just  pronounced  it 
to  be  "Well! — very  well!  "  when  the  Dowager  Lady  Chat- 
terton  made  a  terrible  discovery — a  discovery  that  filled 
Lady  Clonbrony  with  astonishment  and  indignation — Mr. 
Soho  had  played  her  false !  What  was  her  mortification 
when  the  dowager  assured  her  that  these  identical  Alham- 
bra hangings  had  not  only  been  shown  by  Mr.  Soho  to  the 
Duchess  of  Torcaster,  but  that  her  grace  had  had  the  re- 
fusal of  them,  and  had  actually  rejected  them,  in  conse- 
quence of  Sir  Horace  Grant  the  great  traveller's  objecting 
to  some  of  the  proportions  of  the  pillars.  Soho  had  engaged 
to  make  a  new  set,  vastly  improved,  by  Sir  Horace's  sug- 
gestions, for  her  Grace  of  Torcaster. 

Now  Lady  Chatterton  was  the  greatest  talker  extant ; 
and  she  went  about  the  rooms  telling  everybody  of  her 
acquaintance — and  she  was  acquainted  with  everybody — 
how  shamefully  Soho  had  imposed  upon  poor  Lady  Clon- 
brony, protesting  she  could  not  forgive  the  man.  "For," 
said  she,  "though  the  Duchess  of  Torcaster  has  been  his 
constant  customer  for  ages,  and  his  patroness,  and  all  that, 
yet  this  does  not  excuse  him — and  Lady  Clonbrony's  being 
a  stranger,  and  from  Ireland,  makes  the  thing  worse." 
From  Ireland! — that  was  the  unkindest  cut  of  all — but 
there  was  no  remedy. 

In    vain    poor   Lady  Clonbrony   followed  the  dowager 

38 


THE  ABSENTEE 

about  the  rooms,  to  correct  this  mistake,  and  to  represent, 
in  justice  to  Mr.  Soho,  though  he  had  used  her  so  ill,  that 
he  knew  she  was  an  Englishwoman.  The  dowager  was 
deaf,  and  no  whisper  could  reach  her  ear.  And  when 
Lady  Clonbrony  was  obliged  to  bawl  an  explanation  in  her 
ear,  the  dowager  only  repeated — ■ 

"In  justice  to  Mr.  Soho! — No,  no;  he  has  not  done  you 
justice,  my  dear  Lady  Clonbrony !  and  I'll  expose  him  to 
everybody.  Englishwoman  ! — no,  no,  no  !  —  Soho  could 
not  take  you  for  an  Englishwoman  !  " 

All  who  secretly  envied  or  ridiculed  Lady  Clonbrony 
enjoyed  this  scene.  The  Alhambra  hangings,  which  had 
been,  in  one  short  hour  before,  the  admiration  of  the  world, 
were  now  regarded  by  every  eye  with  contempt,  as  cast 
hangings,  and  every  tongue  was  busy  declaiming  against 
Mr.  Soho ;  everybody  declared  that,  from  the  first,  the 
want  of  proportion  had  "struck  them,  but  that  they  would 
not  mention  it  till  others  found  it  out." 

People  usually  revenge  themselves  for  having  admired 
too  much,  by  afterwards  despising  and  depreciating  without 
mercy — in  all  great  assemblies  the  perception  of  ridicule  is 
quickly  caught,  and  quickly,  too,  revealed.  Lady  Clon- 
brony, even  in  her  own  house,  on  her  gala  night,  became 
an  object  of  ridicule — decently  masked,  indeed,  under  the 
appearance  of  condolence  with  her  ladyship,  and  of  indig- 
nation against  "that  abominable  Mr.  Soho!  " 

Lady  Langdale,  who  was  now,  for  reasons  of  her  own, 
upon  her  good  behaviour,  did  penance,  as  she  said,  for  her 
former  imprudence,  by  abstaining  even  from  whispered 
sarcasms.  She  looked  on  with  penitential  gravity,  said 
nothing  herself,  and  endeavoured  to  keep  Mrs.  Dareville  in 
order;  but  that  was  no  easy  task.  Mrs.  Dareville  had  no 
daughters,  had  nothing  to  gain  from  the  acquaintance  of 
my  Lady  Clonbrony ;  and,  conscious  that  her  ladyship 
would  bear  a  vast  deal  from  her  presence,  rather  than 
forego  the  honour  of  her  sanction,  Mrs.  Dareville,  without 
any  motives  of  interest,  or  good-nature  of  sufificient  power 
to  restrain  her  talent  and  habit  of  ridicule,  free  from  hope 
or  fear,  gave  full  scope  to  all  the  malice  of  mockery,  and 

39 


THE  ABSENTEE 

all  the  insolence  of  fashion.  Her  slings  and  arrows,  numer- 
ous as  they  were  and  outrageous,  were  directed  against 
such  petty  objects,  and  the  mischief  was  so  quick,  in  its 
aim  and  its  operation,  that,  felt  but  not  seen,  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  register  the  hits,  or  to  describe  the  nature  of  the 
wounds. 

Some  hits  sufficiently  palpable,  however,  were  recorded 
for  the  advantage  of  posterity.  When  Lady  Clonbrony 
led  her  to  look  at  the  Chinese  pagoda,  the  lady  paused, 
with  her  foot  on  the  threshold,  as  if  afraid  to  enter  this 
porcelain  Elysium,  as  she  called  it — Fool's  Paradise,  she 
would  have  said;  and,  by  her  hesitation,  and  by  the 
half-pronounced  word,  suggested  the  idea — "None  but 
belles  without  petticoats  can  enter  here,"  said  she,  draw- 
ing her  clothes  tight  round  her;  "fortunately,  I  have  but 
two,  and  Lady  Langdale  has  but  one."  Prevailed  upon 
to  venture  in,  she  walked  on  with  prodigious  care  and 
trepidation,  affecting  to  be  alarmed  at  the  crowd  of  strange 
forms  and  monsters  by  which  she  was  surrounded. 

"Not  a  creature  here  that  I  ever  saw  before  in  nature! 
Well,  now  I  may  boast  I've  been  in  a  real  Chinese  pagoda ! " 

"Why  yes,  everything  is  appropriate  here,  I  flatter  my- 
self," said  Lady  Clonbrony. 

"And  how  good  of  you,  my  dear  Lady  Clonbrony,  in 
defiance  of  bulls  and  blunders,  to  allow  us  a  comfortable 
English  fireplace  and  plenty  of  Newcastle  coal,  in  China! 
— And  a  white  marble — no  !  white  velvet  hearthrug,  painted 
with  beautiful  flowers — oh,  the  delicate,  the  useful  thing !  " 

Vexed  by  the  emphasis  on  the  word  useful,  Lady  Clon- 
brony endeavoured  to  turn  off  the  attention  of  the  com- 
pany. "Lady  Langdale,  your  ladyship's  a  judge  of  china 
— this  vase  is  an  unique,  I  am  told." 

"I  am  told,"  interrupted  Mrs.   Dareville,  "this  is  the 

very  vase  in  which  B ,  the  nabob's  father,  who  was, 

you  know,  a  China  captain,  smuggled  his  dear  little  Chinese 
wife  and  all  her  fortune  out  of  Canton — positively,  actually 
put  the  lid  on,  packed  her  up,  and  sent  her  off  on  ship- 
board! — True!  true!  upon  my  veracity!  I'll  tell  you  my 
authority !  " 

40 


THE  ABSENTEE 

With  this  story  Mrs.  Dareville  drew  all  attention  from 
the  jar,  to  Lady  Clonbrony's  infinite  mortification. 

Lady  Langdale  at  length  turned  to  look"  at  a  vast  range 
of  china  jars. 

"Ali  Baba  and  the  forty  thieves!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dare- 
ville; "I  hope  you  have  boiling  oil  ready  I  " 

Lady  Clonbrony  was  obliged  to  laugh,  and  to  vow  that 
Mrs.  Dareville  was  uncommon  pleasant  to-night.  "But 
now,"  said  her  ladyship,  "let  me  take  you  on  to  the  Turk- 
ish tent." 

Having  with  great  difficulty  got  the  malicious  wit  out  of 
the  pagoda  and  into  the  Turkish  tent,  Lady  Clonbrony 
began  to  breathe  more  freely ;  for  here  she  thought  she  was 
upon  safe  ground:  "Everything,  I  flatter  myself,"  said 
she,  "is  correct  and  appropriate,  and  quite  picturesque." 
The  company,  dispersed  in  happy  groups,  or  reposing  on 
seraglio  ottomans,  drinking  lemonade  and  sherbet — beauti- 
ful Fatimas  admiring,  or  being  admired — "  Everything  here 
quite  correct,  appropriate,  and  picturesque,"  repeated  Mrs. 
Dareville. 

This  lady's  powers  as  a  mimic  were  extraordinary,  and 
she  found  them  irresistible.  Hitherto  she  had  imitated 
Lady  Clonbrony's  air  and  accent  only  behind  her  back; 
but,  bolder  grown,  she  now  ventured,  in  spite  of  Lady 
Langdale's  warning  pinches,  to  mimic  her  kind  hostess  be- 
fore her  face,  and  to  her  face.  Now,  whenever  Lady 
Clonbrony  saw  anything  that  struck  her  fancy  in  the  dress 
of  her  fashionable  friends,  she  had  a  way  of  hanging  her 
head  aside,  and  saying,  with  a  peculiar  sentimental  drawl — 

"How  pretty! — how  elegant!  Now  that  quite  suits  my 
teeste  !  "  This  phrase,  precisely  in  the  same  accent,  and 
with  the  head  set  to  the  same  angle  of  affectation,  Mrs. 
Dareville  had  the  assurance  to  address  to  her  ladyship, 
apropos  to  something  which  she  pretended  to  admire  in 
Lady  Clonbrony's  costume — a  costume  which,  excessively 
fashionable  in  each  of  its  parts,  was,  all  together,  so  extra- 
ordinarily unbecoming  as  to  be  fit  for  a  print-shop.  The 
perception  of  this,  added  to  the  effect  of  Mrs.  Dareville's 
mimicry,  was  almost  too  much  for  Lady  Langdale ;  she 

41 


THE  ABSENTEE 

could  not  possibly  have  stood  it,  but  for  the  appearance 
of  Miss  Nugent  at  this  instant  behind  Lady  Clonbrony. 
Grace  gave  one  glance  of  indignation  which  seemed  sud- 
denly to  strike  Mrs.  Dareville.  Silence  for  a  moment 
ensued,  and  afterwards  the  tone  of  the  conversation  was 
changed. 

"Salisbury  I — explain  this  to  me,"  said  a  lady,  drawing 
Mr.  Salisbury  aside.  "If  you  are  in  the  secret,  do  explain 
this  to  me;  for  unless  I  had  seen  it,  I  could  not  have  be- 
lieved it.  Nay,  though  I  have  seen  it,  I  do  not  believe  it. 
How  was  that  daring  spirit  laid?     By  what  spell?" 

"By  the  spell  which  superior  minds  always  cast  on  in- 
ferior spirits." 

"Very  fine,"  said  the  lady,  laughing,  "but  as  old  as  the 
days  of  Leonora  de  Galigai,  quoted  a  million  times.  Now 
tell  me  something  new  and  to  the  purpose,  and  better 
suited  to  modern  days." 

"Well,  then,  since  you  will  not  allow  me  to  talk  of 
superior  minds  in  the  present  days,  let  me  ask  you  if  you 
have  never  observed  that  a  wit,  once  conquered  in  com- 
pany by  a  wit  of  a  higher  order,  is  thenceforward  in  com- 
plete subjection  to  the  conqueror,  whenever  and  wherever 
they  meet?  " 

"You  would  not  persuade  me  that  yonder  gentle-looking 
girl  could  ever  be  a  match  for  the  veteran  Mrs.  Dareville? 
She  may  have  the  wit,  but  has  she  the  courage? " 

"Yes;  no  one  has  more  courage,  more  civil  courage, 
where  her  own  dignity,  or  the  interests  of  her  friends  are 
concerned.     I  will  tell  you  an  instance  or  two  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow! — To-night! — tell  it  me  now." 

"Not  a  safe  place." 

"The  safest  in  the  world,  in  such  a  crowd  as  this.  Fol- 
low my  example.  Take  a  glass  of  orgeat — sip  from  time 
to  time,  thus — speak  low,  looking  innocent  all  the  while 
straight  forward,  or  now  and  then  up  at  the  lamps— keep 
on  in  an  even  tone — use  no  names — and  you  may  tell  any- 
thing." 

"Well,  then,  when  Miss  Nugent  first  came  to  London, 
Lady  Langdale " 

42 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Two  names  already — did  not  I  warn  ye?" 

"But  how  can  I  make  myself  intelligible?  " 

"Initials — can't  you  use — or  genealogy? — What  stops 
you?  It  is  only  Lord  Colambre,  a  very  safe  person,  I 
have  a  notion,  when  the  eulogium  is  of  Grace  Nugent." 

Lord  Colambre,  who  had  now  performed  his  arduous 
duties  as  a  dancer,  and  had  disembarrassed  himself  of  all 
his  partners,  came  into  the  Turkish  tent  just  at  this  mo- 
ment to  refresh  himself,  and  just  in  time  to  hear  Mr.  Salis- 
bury's anecdotes. 

"Now  go  on," 

"Lady  Langdale,  you  know,  sets  an  inordinate  value 
upon  her  curtsies  in  public,  and  she  used  to  treat  Miss 
Nugent,  as  her  ladyship  treats  many  other  people,  some- 
times noticing,  and  sometimes  pretending  not  to  know  her, 
according  to  the  company  she  happened  to  be  with.  One 
day  they  met  in  some  fine  company^Lady  Langdale 
looked  as  if  she  was  afraid  of  committing  herself  by  a 
curtsy.  Miss  Nugent  waited  for  a  good  opportunity  ;  and, 
when  all  the  world  was  silent,  leant  forward,  and  called  to 
Lady  Langdale,  as  if'she  had  something  to  communicate 
of  the  greatest  consequence,  skreening  her  whisper  with  her 
hand,  as  in  an  aside  on  the  stage, — 'Lady  Langdale,  you 
may  curtsy  to  me  now — nobody  is  looking.' 

' '  The  retort  courteous !  "  said  Lord  Colambre — ' '  the  only 
retort  for  a  woman." 

"And  her  ladyship  deserved  it  so  well.  But  Mrs.  Dare- 
ville,  what  happened  about  her?" 

"Mrs.  Dareville,  you  remember,  some  years  ago,  went 
to  Ireland  with  some  lady-lieutenant  to  whom  she  was  re- 
lated. There  she  was  most  hospitably  received  by  Lord 
and  Lady  Clonbrony — went  to  their  country  house — was 
as  intimate  with  Lady  Clonbrony  and  with  Miss  Nugent  as 
possible — stayed  at  Clonbrony  Castle  for  a  month;  and 
yet,  when  Lady  Clonbrony  came  to  London,  never  took 
the  least  notice  of  her.  At  last,  meeting  at  the  house  of  a 
common  friend,  Mrs.  Dareville  could  not  avoid  recognising 
her  ladyship ;  but,  even  then,  did  it  in  the  least  civil 
manner    and    most    cursory    style    possible.     'Ho!    Lady 

43 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Clonbrony  ! — didn't  know  you  were  in  England! — When 
did  you  come? — How  long  shall  you  stay  in  town? — Hope, 
before  you  leave  England,  your  ladyship  and  Miss  Nugent 
will  give  us  a  day?'  A  day! — Lady  Clonbrony  was  so 
astonished  by  this  impudence  of  ingratitude,  that  she  hesi- 
tated how  to  take  it ;  but  Miss  Nugent,  quite  coolly,  and 
with  a  smile,  answered,  'A  day! — certainly — to  you,  who 
gave  us  a  month ! '  " 

"Admirable!  Now  I  comprehend  perfectly  why  Mrs. 
Dareville  declines  insulting  Miss  Nugent's  friends  in  her 
presence." 

Lord  Colambre  said  nothing,  but  thought  much.  "How 
I  wish  my  mother,"  thought  he,  "had  some  of  Grace  Nu- 
gent's proper  pride!  She  would  not  then  waste  her 
fortune,  spirits,  health,  and  life,  in  courting  such  people 
as  these." 

He  had  not  seen — he  could  not  have  borne  to  have  be- 
held— the  manner  in  which  his  mother  had  been  treated  by 
some  of  her  guests;  but  he  observed  that  she  now  looked 
harassed  and  vexed  ;  and  he  was  provoked  and  mortified  by 
hearing  her  begging  and  beseeching  some  of  these  saucy 
leaders  of  the  ton  to  oblige  her,  to  do  her  the  favour,  to 
do  her  the  honour,  to  stay  to  supper.  It  was  just  ready — 
actually  announced.  "No,  they  would  not — they  could 
not ;  they  were  obliged  to  run  away  —  engaged  to  the 
Duchess  of  Torcaster." 

"Lord  Colambre,  what  is  the  matter?  "  said  Miss  Nugent, 
going  up  to  him,  as  he  stood  aloof  and  indignant:  "Don't 
look  so  like  a  chafed  lion ;  others  may  perhaps  read  your 
countenance  as  well  as  I  do." 

"None  can  read  my  mind  so  well,"  replied  he.  "Oh, 
my  dear  Grace  !  " 

"Supper!  —  supper!"  cried  she;  "your  duty  to  your 
neighbour,  your  hand  to  your  partner." 

Lady  Catharine,  as  they  went  downstairs  to  supper,  ob- 
served that  Miss  Nugent  had  not  been  dancing,  that  she 
had  kept  quite  in  the  background  all  night — quite  in  the 
shade. 

"Those,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  "who  are  contented  in 

44 


THE  ABSENTEE 

the  shade  are  the  best  able  to  bear  the  light ;  and  I  am  not 
surprised  that  one  so  interesting  in  the  background  should 
not  desire  to  be  the  foremost  figure  in  a  piece. "_ 

The  supper  room,  fitted  up  at  great  expense,  with  scen- 
ery to  imitate  Vauxhall,  opened  into  a  superb  greenhouse, 
lighted  with  coloured  lamps,  a  band  of  music  at  a  distance 
— every  delicacy,  every  luxury  that  could  gratify  the  senses, 
appeared  in  profusion.  The  company  ate  and  drank — 
enjoyed  themselves  —  went  away^ — and  laughed  at  their 
hostess.  Some,  indeed,  who  thought  they  had  been  neg- 
lected, were  in  too  bad  humour  to  laugh,  but  abused  her  in 
sober  earnest ;  for  Lady  Clonbrony  had  offended  half,  nay, 
three-quarters  of  her  guests,  by  what  they  termed  her  ex- 
clusive attention  to  those  very  leaders  of  the  ton,  from 
whom  she  had  suffered  so  much,  and  who  had  made  it 
obvious  to  all  that  they  thought  they  did  her  too  much 
honour  in  appearing  at  her  gala.  So  ended  the  gala  for 
which  she  had  lavished  such  sums ;  for  which  she  had 
laboured  so  indefatigably ;  and  from  which  she  had  ex- 
pected such  triumph. 

"Colambre,  bid  the  musicians  stop;  they  are  playing  to 
empty  benches,"  said  Lady  Clonbrony.  "Grace,  my  dear, 
will  you  see  that  these  lamps  are  safely  put  out?  I  am  so 
tired,  so  zuorn  out,  I  must  go  to  bed ;  and  I  am  sure  I  have 
caught  cold  too !  What  a  nervous  business  it  is  to  manage 
these  things !  I  wonder  how  one  gets  through  it,  or  why 
one  does  it !  " 


CHAPTER    IV. 

LADY  CLONBRONY  was  taken  ill  the  day  after  her 
gala;  she  had  caught  cold  by  standing,  when  much 
overheated,  in  a  violent  draught  of  wind,  paying  her 

parting  compliments  to  the  Duke  of  V ,  who  thought 

her  a  bore,  and  wished  her  in  heaven  all  the  time  for  keep- 
ing his  horses  standing.  Her  ladyship's  illness  was  severe 
and  long;  she  was  confined  to  her  room  for  some  weeks 
by  a  rheumatic  fever,    and  an  inflammation  in  her  eyes. 

AS 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Every  day,  when  Lord  Colambre  went  to  see  his  mother, 
he  found  Miss  Nugent  in  her  apartment,  and  every  hour  he 
found  fresh  reason  to  admire  this  charming  girl.  The  af- 
fectionate tenderness,  the  indefatigable  patience,  the  strong 
attachment  she  showed  for  her  aunt,  actually  raised  Lady 
Clonbrony  in  her  son's  opinion.  He  was  persuaded  she 
must  surely  have  some  good  or  great  qualities,  or  she  could 
not  have  excited  such  strong  affection.  A  few  foibles  out 
of  the  question,  such  as  her  love  of  fine  people,  her  affecta- 
tion of  being  English,  and  other  affectations  too  tedious  to 
mention,  Lady  Clonbrony  was  really  a  good  woman,  had 
good  principles,  moral  and  religious,  and,  selfishness  not 
immediately  interfering,  she  was  good-natured  ;  and  though 
her  soul  and  attention  were  so  completely  absorbed  in  the 
duties  of  acquaintanceship  that  she  did  not  know  it,  she 
really  had  affections — they  were  concentrated  upon  a  few 
near  relations.  She  was  extremely  fond  and  extremely 
proud  of  her  son.  Next  to  her  son,  she  was  fonder  of  her 
niece  than  of  any  other  creature.  She  had  received  Grace 
Nugent  into  her  family  when  she  was  left  an  orphan,  and 
deserted  by  some  of  her  other  relations.  She  had  bred  her 
up,  and  had  treated  her  with  constant  kindness.  This 
kindness  and  these  obligations  had  raised  the  warmest 
gratitude  in  Miss  Nugent's  heart ;  and  it  was  the  strong 
principle  of  gratitude  which  rendered  her  capable  of  endur- 
ance and  exertions  seemingly  far  above  her  strength.  This 
young  lady  was  not  of  a  robust  appearance,  though  she  now 
underwent  extraordinary  fatigue.  Her  aunt  could  scarcely 
bear  that  she  should  leave  her  for  a  moment ;  she  could  not 
close  her  eyes  unless  Grace  sat  up  with  her  many  hours 
every  night.  Night  after  night  she  bore  this  fatigue ;  and 
yet,  with  little  sleep  or  rest,  she  preserved  her  health,  at 
least  supported  her  spirits;  and  every  morning,  when  Lord 
Colambre  came  into  his  mother's  room,  he  saw  Miss  Nu- 
gent look  as  blooming  as  if  she  had  enjoyed  the  most 
refreshing  sleep.  The  bloom  was,  as  he  observed,  not 
permanent;  it  came  and  went,  with  every  emotion  of  her 
feeling  heart ;  and  he  soon  learned  to  fancy  her  almost  as 
handsome  when  she  was  pale  as  when  she  had  a  colour. 

46 


THE  ABSENTEE 

He  had  thought  her  beautiful  when  he  beheld  her  in  all 
the  radiance  of  light,  and  with  all  the  advantages  of  dress 
at  the  gala,  but  he  found  her  infinitely  more  lovely  and 
interesting  now,  when  he  saw  her  in  a  sick-room — a  half- 
darkened  chamber — where  often  he  could  but  just  discern 
her  form,  or  distinguish  her,  except  by  her  graceful  motion 
as  she  passed,  or  when,  but  for  a  moment,  a  window-curtain 
drawn  aside  let  the  sun  shine  upon  her  face,  or  on  the  un- 
adorned ringlets  of  her  hair. 

Much  must  be  allowed  for  an  inflammation  in  the  eyes, 
and  something  for  a  rheumatic  fever;  yet  it  may  seem 
strange  that  Lady  Clonbrony  should  be  so  blind  and  deaf 
as  neither  to  see  nor  hear  all  this  time ;  that,  having  lived 
so  long  in  the  world,  it  should  never  occur  to  her  that  it 
was  rather  imprudent  to  have  a  3'-oung  lady,  not  eighteen, 
nursing  her — and  such  a  young  lady ! — when  her  son,  not 
one-and-twenty — and  such  a  son  ! — came  to  visit  her  daily. 
But,  so  it  was.  Lady  Clonbrony  knew  nothing  of  love — 
she  had  read  of  it,  indeed,  in  novels,  which  sometimes  for 
fashion's  sake  she  had  looked  at,  and  over  which  she  had 
been  obliged  to  doze ;  but  this  was  only  love  in  books — 
love  in  real  life  she  had  never  met  with — in  the  life  she  led, 
how  should  she?  She  had  heard  of  its  making  young 
people,  and  old  people  even,  do  foolish  things;  but  those 
were  foolish  people;  and  if  they  were  worse  than  foolish, 
why  it  was  shocking,  and  nobody  visited  them.  But  Lady 
Clonbrony  had  not,  for  her  own  part,  the  slightest  notion 
how  people  could  be  brought  to  this  pass,  nor  how  any- 
body out  of  Bedlam  could  prefer  to  a  good  house,  a  decent 
equipage,  and  a  proper  establishment,  what  is  called  love 
in  a  cottage.  As  to  Colambre,  she  had  too  good  an  opinion 
of  his  understanding — to  say  nothing  of  his  duty  to  his 
family,  his  pride,  his  rank,  and  his  being  her  son — to  let 
such  an  idea  cross  her  imagination.  As  to  her  niece;  in 
the  first  place,  she  was  her  niece,  and  first  cousins  should 
never  marry,  because  they  form  no  new  connexions  to 
strengthen  the  family  interest,  or  raise  its  consequence. 
This  doctrine  her  ladyship  had  repeated  for  years  so  often 
and  so  dogmatically,   that  she  conceived  it  to  be  incon- 

47 


THE  ABSENTEE 

trovertible,  and  of  as  full  force  as  any  law  of  the  land,  or  as 
any  moral  or  religious  obligation.  She  would  as  soon  have 
suspected  her  niece  of  an  intention  of  stealing  her  diamond 
necklace  as  of  purloining  Colambre's  heart,  or  marrying 
this  heir  of  the  house  of  Clonbrony. 

Miss  Nugent  was  so  well  apprised,  and  so  thoroughly 
convinced  of  all  this,  that  she  never  for  one  moment 
allowed  herself  to  think  of  Lord  Colambre  as  a  lover. 
Duty,  honour,  and  gratitude — gratitude,  the  strong  feeling 
and  principle  of  her  mind — forbade  it ;  she  had  so  prepared 
and  habituated  herself  to  consider  him  as  a  person  with 
whom  she  could  not  possibly  be  united  that,  with  perfect 
ease  and  simplicity,  she  behaved  towards  him  exactly  as  if 
he  was  her  brother — not  in  the  equivocating  sentimental 
romance  style  in  which  ladies  talk  of  treating  men  as  their 
brothers,  whom  they  are  all  the  time  secretly  thinking  of 
and  endeavouring  to  please  as  lovers — not  using  this  phrase 
as  a  convenient  pretence,  a  safe  mode  of  securing  herself 
from  suspicion  or  scandal,  and  of  enjoying  the  advantages 
of  confidence  and  the  intimacy  of  friendship,  till  the  pro- 
pitious moment,  when  it  should  be  time  to  declare  or  avow 
tJie  secret  of  the  heart.  No;  this  young  lady  was  quite 
above  all  double-dealing;  she  had  no  mental  reservation — 
no  metaphysical  subtleties  —  but,  with  plain,  unsophisti. 
cated  morality,  in  good  faith  and  simple  truth,  acted  as  she 
professed,  thought  what  she  said,  and  was  that  which  she 
seemed  to  be. 

As  soon  as  Lady  Clonbrony  was  able  to  see  anybody, 
her  niece  sent  to  Mrs.  Broadhurst,  who  was  very  intimate 
with  the  family ;  she  used  to  come  frequently,  almost  every 
evening,  to  sit  with  the  invalid.  Miss  Broadhurst  accom- 
panied her  mother,  for  she  did  not  like  to  go  out  with  any 
other  chaperon — it  was  disagreeable  to  spend  her  time 
alone  at  home,  and  most  agreeable  to  spend  it  with  her 
friend  Miss  Nugent.  In  this  she  had  no  design,  no  co- 
quetry ;  Miss  Broadhurst  had  too  lofty  and  independent  a 
spirit  to  stoop  to  coquetry :  she  thought  that,  in  their  in- 
terview at  the  gala,  she  understood  Lord  Colambre,  and 
that  he  understood  her- — that  he  was  not  inclined  to  court 

48 


THE  ABSENTEE 

her  for  her  fortune — that  she  would  not  be  content  with 
any  suitor  who  was  not  a  lover.  She  was  two  or  three 
years  older  than  Lord  Colambre,  perfectly  aware  of  her 
want  of  beauty,  yet  with  a  just  sense  of  her  own  merit, 
and  of  what  was  becoming  and  due  to  the  dignity  of  her 
sex.  This,  she  trusted,  was  visible  in  her  manners,  and 
established  in  Lord  Colambre's  mind ;  so  that  she  ran  no 
risk  of  being  misunderstood  by  him ;  and  as  to  what  the 
rest  of  the  world  thought,  she  was  so  well  used  to  hear 
weekly  and  daily  reports  of  her  going  to  be  married  to  fifty 
different  people,  that  she  cared  little  for  what  was  said  on 
this  subject.  Indeed,  conscious  of  rectitude,  and  with  an 
utter  contempt  for  mean  and  commonplace  gossiping,  she 
was,  for  a  woman,  and  a  young  woman,  rather  too  disdain- 
ful of  the  opinion  of  the  world.  Mrs.  Broadhurst,  though 
her  daughter  had  fully  explained  herself  respecting  Lord 
Colambre,  before  she  began  this  course  of  visiting,  yet  re- 
joiced that,  even  on  this  footing,  there  should  be  constant 
intercourse  between  them.  It  was  Mrs.  Broadhurst's 
warmest  wish  that  her  daughter  should  obtain  rank,  and 
connect  herself  wnth  an  ancient  family :  she  was  sensible 
that  the  young  lady's  being  older  than  the  gentleman 
might  be  an  obstacle;  and  very  sorry  she  was  to  find  that 
her  daughter  had  so  imprudently,  so  unnecessarily,  de- 
clared her  age ;  but  still  this  little  obstacle  might  be  over- 
come ;  much  greater  difficulties  in  the  marriage  of  inferior 
heiresses  were  every  day  got  over,  and  thought  nothing  of. 
Then,  as  to  the  young  lady's  own  sentiments,  her  mother 
knew  them  better  than  she  did  herself ;  she  understood  her 
daughter's  pride,  that  she  dreaded  to  be  made  an  object  of 
bargain  and  sale ;  but  Mrs.  Broadhurst,  who,  with  all  her 
coarseness  of  mind,  had  rather  a  better  notion  of  love  mat- 
ters than  Lady  Clonbrony,  perceived,  through  her  daugh- 
ter's horror  of  being  offered  to  Lord  Colambre,  through 
her  anxiety  that  nothing  approaching  to  an  advance  on 
the  part  of  her  family  should  be  made,  that  if  Lord  Colam- 
bre should  himself  advance,  he  would  stand  a  better  chance 
of  being  accepted  than  any  other  of  the  numerous  persons 
who  had  yet  aspired  to  the  favour  of  this  heiress.     The 

4  49 


THE  ABSENTEE 

very  circumstance  of  his  having  paid  no  court  to  her  at 
first,  operated  in  his  favour;  for  it  proved  that  he  was  not 
mercenary,  and  that,  whatever  attention  he  might  after- 
wards show,  she  must  be  sure  would  be  sincere  and  dis- 
interested. 

"And  now,  let  them  but  see  one  another  in  this  easy, 
intimate  kind  of  way,  and  you  will  find,  my  dear  Lady 
Clonbrony,  things  will  go  on  of  their  own  accord,  all  the 
better  for  our — minding  our  cards — and  never  minding 
anything  else.  I  remember,  when  I  was  young — but  let 
that  pass — let  the  young  people  see  one  another,  and  man- 
age their  own  affairs  their  own  way — let  them  be  together 
— that's  all  I  say.  Ask  half  the  men  you  are  acquainted 
with  why  they  married,  and  their  answer,  if  they  speak 
truth,  will  be:  'Because  I  met  Miss  such-a-one  at  such  a 
place,  and  we  were  continually  together.'  Propinquity! 
propinquity  !  —  as  my  father  used  to  say  —  and  he  was 
married  five  times,  and  twice  to  heiresses.' 

In  consequence  of  this  plan  of  leaving  things  to  them- 
selves, every  evening  Lady  Clonbrony  made  out  her  own 
little  card-table  with  Mrs.  Broadhurst,  and  a  Mr.  and  Miss 
Pratt,  a  brother  and  sister,  who  were  the  most  obliging, 
convenient  neighbours  imaginable.  From  time  to  time, 
as  Lady  Clonbrony  gathered  up  her  cards,  she  would  direct 
an  inquiring  glance  to  the  group  of  young  people  at  the 
other  table;  whilst  the  more  prudent  Mrs.  Broadhurst  sat 
plump  with  her  back  to  them,  pursing  up  her  lips,  and 
contracting  her  brows  in  token  of  deep  calculation,  looking 
down  impenetrable  at  her  cards,  never  even  noticing  Lady 
Clonbrony 's  glances,  but  inquiring  from  her  partner,  "How 
many  they  were  by  honours? " 

The  young  party  generally  consisted  of  Miss  Broad- 
hurst, Lord  Colambre,  Miss  Nugent,  and  her  admirer,  Mr. 
Salisbury.  Mr.  Salisbury  was  a  middle-aged  gentleman, 
very  agreeable,  and  well  informed ;  he  had  travelled ;  had 
seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world ;  had  lived  in  the  best  com- 
pany; had  acquired  what  is  called  good  tact ;  was  full  of 
anecdote,  not  mere  gossiping  anecdotes  that  lead  to  no- 
thing, but  anecdotes  characteristic  of  national  manners,  of 

50 


THE  ABSENTEE 

human  nature  in  general,  or  of  those  ilhistrious  individuals 
who  excite  public  curiosity  and  interest.  Miss  Nugent 
had  seen  him  always  in  large  companies,  where  he  was 
admired  for  his  sqavoir-vivre,  and  for  his  entertaining  anec- 
dotes, but  where  he  had  no  opportunity  of  producing  any 
of  the  higher  powers  of  his  understanding,  or  showing 
character.  She  found  that  Mr.  Salisbury  appeared  to  her 
quite  a  different  person  when  conversing  with  Lord  Colam- 
bre.  Lord  Colambre,  with  that  ardent  thirst  for  knowledge 
which  it  is  always  agreeable  to  gratify,  had  an  air  of  open- 
ness and  generosity,  a  frankness,  a  warmth  of  manner, 
which,  with  good  breeding,  but  with  something  beyond  it 
and  superior  to  its  established  forms,  irresistibly  won  the 
confidence  and  attracted  the  affection  of  those  with  whom 
he  conversed.  His  manners  were  peculiarly  agreeable  to  a 
person  like  Mr.  Salisbury,  tired  of  the  sameness  and  ego- 
tism of  men  of  the  world. 

Miss  Nugent  had  seldom  till  now  had  the  advantage  of 
hearing  much  conversation  on  literary  subjects.  In  the 
life  she  had  been  compelled  to  lead  she  had  acquired  ac- 
complishments, had  exercised  her  understanding  upon 
everything  that  passed  before  her,  and  from  circumstances 
had  formed  her  judgment  and  her  taste  by  observations 
on  real  life;  but  the  ample  page  of  knowledge  had  never 
been  unrolled  to  her  eyes.  She  had  never  had  opportuni- 
ties of  acquiring  literature  herself,  but  she  admired  it  in 
others,  particularly  in  her  friend  Miss  Broadhurst.  Miss 
Broadhurst  had  received  all  the  advantages  of  education 
which  money  could  procure,  and  had  profited  by  them  in 
a  manner  uncommon  among  those  for  whom  they  are  pur- 
chased in  such  abundance;  she  not  only  had  had  many 
masters,  and  read  many  books,  but  had  thought  of  what 
she  read,  and  had  supplied,  by  the  strength  and  energy  of 
her  own  mind,  what  cannot  be  acquired  by  the  assistance 
of  masters.  Miss  Nugent,  perhaps  overvaluing  the  in- 
formation that  she  did  not  possess,  and  free  from  all  idea 
of  envy,  looked  up  to  her  friend  as  to  a  superior  being, 
with  a  sort  of  enthusiastic  admiration ;  and  now,  with 
"charmed  attention,"  listened,  by  turns,  to  her,  to  Mr. 

51 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Salisbury,  and  to  Lord  Colambre,  whilst  they  conversed 
on  literary  subjects — listened,  with  a  countenance  so  full 
of  intelligence,  of  animation  so  expressive  of  every  good 
and  kind  affection,  that  the  gentlemen  did  not  always 
know  what  they  were  saying. 

"Pray  go  on,"  said  she,  once,  to  Mr,  Salisbury;  "you 
stop,  perhaps,  from  politeness  to  me — from  compassion  to 
my  ignorance ;  but,  though  I  am  ignorant,  you  do  not  tire 
me,  I  assure  you.  Did  you  ever  condescend  to  read  the 
Arabian  tales?  Like  him  whose  eyes  were  touched  by  the 
magical  application  from  the  dervise,  I  am  enabled  at  once 
to  see  the  riches  of  a  new  world — Oh !  how  unlike,  how 
superior  to  that  in  which  I  have  lived ! — the  GREAT  world, 
as  it  is  called." 

Lord  Colambre  brought  down  a  beautiful  edition  of  the 
Arabian  tales,  looked  for  the  story  to  which  Miss  Nugent 
had  alluded,  and  showed  it  to  Miss  Broadhurst,  who  was 
also  searching  for  it  in  another  volume. 

Lady  Clonbrony,  from  her  card-table,  saw  the  young 
people  thus  engaged. 

"I  profess  not  to  understand  these  things  so  well  as  you 
say  you  do,  my  dear  Mrs.  Broadhurst,"  whispered  she; 
"but  look  there  now;  they  are  at  their  books!  What  do 
you  expect  can  come  of  that  sort  of  thing?  So  ill-bred, 
and  downright  rude  of  Colambre,  I  must  give  him  a  hint." 

"No,  no,  for  mercy's  sake!  my  dear  Lady  Clonbrony, 
no  hints,  no  hints,  no  remarks!  What  would  you  have? — 
she  reading,  and  my  lord  at  the  back  of  her  chair,  leaning 
over — and  allowed,  mind,  to  lean  over  to  read  the  same 
thing.  Can't  be  better!  Never  saw  any  man  yet  allowed 
to  come  so  near  her!  Now,  Lady  Clonbrony,  not  a  word, 
not  a  look,  I  beseech." 

"Well,  well! — but  if  they  had  a  little  music." 

"My  daughter's  tired  of  music.  How  much  do  I  owe 
your  ladyship  now? — three  rubbers,  I  think.  Now,  though 
you  would  not  believe  it  of  a  young  girl,"  continued  Mrs. 
Broadhurst,  "I  can  assure  your  ladyship,  my  daughter 
would  often  rather  go  to  a  book  than  a  ball." 

"Well,  now,  that's  very  extraordinary,  in  the  style  in 

52 


THE  ABSENTEE 

which  she  has  been  brought  up ;  yet  books  and  all  that  are 
so  fashionable  now,  that  it's  very  natural,"  said  Lady 
Clonbrony. 

About  this  time,  Mr.  Berryl,  Lord  Colambre's  Cam- 
bridge friend,  for  whom  his  lordship  had  fought  the  battle 
of  the  curricle  with  Mordicai,  came  to  town.  Lord  Colam- 
bre  introduced  him  to  his  mother,  by  whom  he  was 
graciously  received  ;  for  Mr.  Berryl  was  a  young  gentleman 
of  good  figure,  good  address,  good  family,  heir  to  a  good 
fortune,  and  in  every  respect  a  fit  match  for  Miss  Nugent. 
Lady  Clonbrony  thought  that  it  would  be  wise  to  secure 
him  for  her  niece  before  he  should  make  his  appearance  in 
the  London  world,  where  mothers  and  daughters  would 
soon  make  him  feel  his  own  consequence.  Mr.  Berryl,  as 
Lord  Colambre's  intimate  friend,  was  admitted  to  the 
private  evening  parties  at  Lady  Clonbrony's,  and  he  con- 
tributed to  render  them  still  more  agreeable.  His  informa- 
tion, his  habits  of  thinking,  and  his  views,  were  all  totally 
different  from  Mr.  Salisbury's;  and  their  collision  con- 
tinually struck  out  that  sparkling  novelty  which  pleases 
peculiarly  in  conversation.  Mr.  Berryl's  education,  dis- 
position, and  tastes,  fitted  him  exactly  for  the  station 
which  he  was  destined  to  fill  in  society — that  of  a  country 
gentleman  ;  not  meaning  by  that  expression  a  mere  eating, 
drinking,  hunting,  shooting,  ignorant  country  squire  of  the 
old  race,  which  is  now  nearly  extinct ;  but  a  cultivated,  en- 
lightened, independent  English  country  gentleman — the 
happiest,  perhaps,  of  human  beings.  On  the  comparative 
felicity  of  the  town  and  country  life;  on  the  dignity, 
utility,  elegance,  and  interesting  nature  of  their  different 
occupations,  and  general  scheme  of  passing  their  time,  Mr. 
Berryl  and  Mr.  Salisbury  had  one  evening  a  playful,  enter- 
taining, and,  perhaps,  instructive  conversation  ;  each  party, 
at  the  end,  remaining,  as  frequently  happens,  of  their  own 
opinion.  It  was  observed  that  Miss  Broadhurst  ably  and 
warmly  defended  Mr.  Berryl's  side  of  the  question;  and  in 
their  views,  plans,  and  estimates  of  life,  there  appeared  a 
remarkable,  and  as  Lord  Colambre  thought,  a  happy  co- 
incidence.    When  she  was  at  last  called  upon  to  give  her 

53 


THE  ABSENTEE 

decisive  judgment  between  a  town  and  a  country  life,  she 
declared  that  "if  s^ie  were  condemned  to  the  extremes  of 
either,  she  should  prefer  a  country  life,  as  much  as  she 
should  prefer  Robinson  Crusoe's  diary  to  the  journal  of 
the  idle  man  in  the  Spectator.'' 

"Lord  bless  me!  Mrs.  Broadhurst,  do  you  hear  what 
your  daughter  is  saying?"  cried  Lady  Clonbrony,  who, 
from  the  card-table,  lent  an  attentive  ear  to  all  that  was 
going  forward.  "Is  it  possible  that  Miss  Broadhurst,  with 
her  fortune,  and  pretensions,  and  sense,  can  really  be 
serious  in  saying  she  would  be  content  to  live  in  the  coun- 
try?" 

"What's  that  you  say,  child,  about  living  in  the  coun- 
try?" said  Mrs.  Broadhurst. 

Miss  Broadhurst  repeated  what  she  had  said. 

"Girls  always  think  so  who  have  lived  in  town,"  said 
Mrs.  Broadhurst.  "They  are  always  dreaming  of  sheep 
and  sheep-hooks;  but  the  first  winter  the  country  cures 
them ;  a  shepherdess,  in  winter,  is  a  sad  and  sorry  sort  of 
personage,  except  at  a  masquerade." 

"Colambre,"  said  Lady  Clonbrony,  "I  am  sure  Miss 
Broadhurst's  sentiments  about  town  life,  and  all  that, 
must  delight  you ;  for  do  you  know,  ma'am,  he  is  always 
trying  to  persuade  me  to  give  up  living  in  town?  Colam- 
bre and  Miss  Broadhurst  perfectly  agree." 

"Mind  your  cards,  my  dear  Lady  Clonbrony,"  inter- 
rupted Mrs.  Broadhurst,  "in  pity  to  your  partner.  Mr. 
Pratt  has  certainly  the  patience  of  Job — your  ladyship  has 
revoked  twice  this  hand." 

Lady  Clonbrony  begged  a  thousand  pardons,  fixed  her 
eyes  and  endeavoured  to  fix  her  mind  on  the  cards;  but 
there  was  something  said  at  the  other  end  of  the  room, 
about  an  estate  in  Cambridgeshire,  which  soon  distracted 
her  attention  again.  Mr.  Pratt  certainly  had  the  patience 
of  Job.  She  revoked,  and  lost  the  game,  though  they  had 
four  by  honours. 

As  soon  as  she  rose  from  the  card-table,  and  could  speak 
to  Mrs.  Broadhurst  apart,  she  communicated  her  apprehen- 
sions. 

54 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Seriously,  my  dear  madam,"  said  she,  "I  believe  I  have 
done  very  wrong  to  admit  Mr.  Berryl  just  now,  though  it 
was  on  Grace's  account  I  did  it.  But,  ma'am,  I  did  not 
know  Miss  Broadhurst  had  an  estate  in  Cambridgeshire; 
their  two  estates  just  close  to  one  another,  I  heard  them 
say.  Lord  bless  me,  ma'am  !  there's  the  danger  of  propin- 
quity indeed !  " 

"No  danger,  no  danger,"  persisted  Mrs.  Broadhurst. 
"I  know  my  girl  better  than  you  do,  begging  your  lady- 
ship's pardon.  No  one  thinks  less  of  estates  than  she 
does." 

"Well,  I  only  know  I  heard  her  talking  of  them,  and 
earnestly  too." 

"Yes,  very  likely;  but  don't  you  know  that  girls  never 
think  of  what  they  are  talking  about,  or  rather  talk  of  what 
they  are  thinking  about?  And  they  have  always  ten  times 
more  to  say  to  the  man  they  don't  care  for,  than  to  him 
they  do." 

"Very  extraordinary!"  said  Lady  Clonbrony.  "I  only 
hope  you  are  right." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Broadhurst.  "Only  let 
things  go  on,  and  mind  your  cards,  I  beseech  you,  to- 
morrow night  better  than  you  did  to-night ;  and  you  will 
see  that  things  will  turn  out  just  as  I  prophesied.  Lord 
Colambre  will  come  to  a  point-blank  proposal  before  the 
end  of  the  week,  and  will  be  accepted,  or  my  name's  not 
Broadhurst.  Why,  in  plain  English,  I  am  clear  my  girl 
likes  him ;  and  when  that's  the  case,  you  know,  can  you 
doubt  how  the  thing  will  end?  " 

Mrs.  Broadhurst  was  perfectly  right  in  every  point  of 
her  reasoning  but  one.  From  long  habit  of  seeing  and 
considering  that  such  an  heiress  as  her  daughter  might 
marry  whom  she  pleased — from  constantly  seeing  that  she 
was  the  person  to  decide  and  to  reject — Mrs.  Broadhurst 
had  literally  taken  it  for  granted  that  everything  was  to 
depend  upon  her  daughter's  inclinations:  she  was  not  mis- 
taken, in  the  present  case,  in  opining  that  the  young  lady 
would  not  be  averse  to  Lord  Colambre,  if  he  came  to  what 
she  called  a  point-blank  proposal.     It  really  never  occurred 

55 


THE  ABSENTEE 

to  Mrs.  Broadhurst  that  any  man,  whom  her  daughter  was 
the  least  inclined  to  favour,  could  think  of  anybody  else. 
Quick-sighted  in  these  affairs  as  the  matron  thought  her- 
self, she  saw  but  one  side  of  the  question :  blind  and  dull 
of  comprehension  as  she  thought  Lady  Clonbrony  on  this 
subject,  she  was  herself  so  completely  blinded  by  her  own 
prejudices,  as  to  be  incapable  of  discerning  the  plain  thing 
that  was  before  her  eyes ;  videlicet,  that  Lord  Colambre 
preferred  Grace  Nugent.  Lord  Colambre  made  no  pro- 
posal before  the  end  of  the  week,  but  this  Mrs.  Broadhurst 
attributed  to  an  unexpected  occurrence,  which  prevented 
things  from  going  on  in  the  train  in  which  they  had  been 
proceeding  so  smoothly.  Sir  John  Berryl,  Mr.  Berryl's 
father,  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  dangerous  illness.  The 
news  was  brought  to  Mr.  Berryl  one  evening  whilst  he 
was  at  Lady  Clonbrony's.  The  circumstances  of  domestic 
distress,  which  afterwards  occurred  in  the  family  of  his 
friend,  entirely  occupied  Lord  Colambre's  time  and  atten- 
tion. All  thoughts  of  love  were  suspended,  and  his  whole 
mind  was  given  up  to  the  active  services  of  friendship. 
The  sudden  illness  of  Sir  John  Berryl  spread  an  alarm 
among  his  creditors  which  brought  to  light  at  once  the  dis- 
order of  his  affairs,  of  which  his  son  had  no  knowledge  or 
suspicion.  Lady  Berryl  had  been  a  very  expensive  woman, 
especially  in  equipages;  and  Mordicai,  the  coachmaker, 
appeared  at  this  time  the  foremost  and  the  most  inexor- 
able of  their  creditors.  Conscious  that  the  charges  in  his 
account  were  exorbitant,  and  that  they  would  not  be 
allowed  if  examined  by  a  court  of  justice;  that  it  was  a 
debt  which  only  ignorance  and  extravagance  could  have  in 
the  first  instance  incurred,  swelled  afterwards  to  an  amaz- 
ing amount  by  interest,  and  interest  upon  interest ;  Mor- 
dicai was  impatient  to  obtain  payment  whilst  Sir  John  yet 
lived,  or  at  least  to  obtain  legal  security  for  the  whole  sum 
from  the  heir.  Mr.  Berryl  offered  his  bond  for  the  amount 
of  the  reasonable  charges  in  his  account ;  but  this  Mordicai 
absolutely  refused,  declaring  that  now  he  had  the  power  in 
his  own  hands,  he  would  use  it  to  obtain  the  utmost  penny 
of  his  debt ;  that  he  would  not  let  the  thing  slip  through 

56 


THE  ABSENTEE 

his  fingers ;  that  a  debtor  never  yet  escaped  him,  and  never 
should;  that  a  man's  lying  upon  his  deathbed  was  no  ex- 
cuse to  a  creditor;  that  he  was  not  a  whiffler,  to  stand 
upon  ceremony  about  disturbing  a  gentleman  in  his  last 
moments;  that  he  was  not  to  be  cheated  out  of  his  due  by 
such  niceties ;  that  he  was  prepared  to  go  all  lengths  the 
law  would  allow;  for  that,  as  to  what  people  said  of 
him,  he  did  not  care  a  doit — "Cover  your  face  with  your 
hands,  if  you  like  it,  Mr.  Berryl;  you  may  be  ashamed  for 
me,  but  I  feel  no  shame  for  myself — I  am  not  so  weak." 
Mordicai's  countenance  said  more  than  his  words;  livid 
with  malice,  and  with  atrocious  determination  in  his  eyes, 
he  stood.  "Yes,  sir,"  said  he,  "you  may  look  at  me  as 
you  please — it  is  possible — I  am  in  earnest.  Consult  what 
you'll  do  now,  behind  my  back  or  before  my  face,  it  comes 
to  the  same  thing ;  for  nothing  will  do  but  my  money  or 
your  bond,  Mr.  Berryl.  The  arrest  is  made  on  the  person 
of  your  father,  luckily  made  while  the  breath  is  still  in  the 
body.  Yes — start  forward  to  strike  me,  if  you  dare—  your 
father,  Sir  John  Berryl,  sick  or  well,  is  my  prisoner." 

Lady  Berryl  and  Mr.  Berryl' s  sisters,  in  an  agony  of 
grief,  rushed  into  the  room. 

"It's  all  useless,"  cried  Mordicai,  turning  his  back  upon 
the  ladies;  "these  tricks  upon  creditors  won't  do  with  me; 
I'm  used  to  these  scenes;  I'm  not  made  of  such  stuff  as 
you  think.  Leave  a  gentleman  in  peace  in  his  last  mo- 
ments. No !  he  ought  not,  nor  shan't  die  in  peace,  if  he 
don't  pay  his  debts;  and  if  you  are  all  so  mighty  sorry, 
ladies,  there's  the  gentleman  you  may  kneel  to ;  if  tender- 
ness is  the  order  of  the  day,  it's  for  the  son  to  show  it,  not 
me.  Ay,  now,  Mr.  Berryl,"  cried  he,  as  Mr.  Berryl  took 
up  the  bond  to  sign  it,  "you're  beginning  to  know  I'm  not 
a  fool  to  be  trifled  with.  Stop  your  hand,  if  you  choose 
it,  sir — it's  all  the  same  to  me;  the  person,  or  the  money, 
I'll  carry  with  me  out  of  this  house." 

Mr.  Berryl  signed  the  bond,  and  threw  it  to  him. 

"There,  monster! — quit  the  house!" 

"Monster  is  not  actionable — I  wish  you  had  called  me 
rascal,"   said    Mordicai,    grinning   a   horrible   smile;   and 

57 


THE  ABSENTEE 

taking  up  the  bond  deliberately,  returned  it  to  Mr.  Berryl. 
"This  paper  is  worth  nothing  to  me,  sir — it  is  not  wit- 
nessed." 

Mr.  Berryl  hastily  left  the  room,  and  returned  with  Lord 
Colambre.  Mordicai  changed  countenance  and  grew  pale, 
for  a  moment,  at  sight  of  Lord  Colambre. 

"Well,  my  lord,  since  it  so  happens,  I  am  not  sorry  that 
you  should  be  witness  to  this  paper,"  said  he;  "and  indeed 
not  sorry  that  you  should  witness  the  whole  proceeding; 
for  I  trust  I  shall  be  able  to  explain  to  you  my  conduct." 

"I  do  not  come  here,  sir,"  interrupted  Lord  Colambre, 
"to  listen  to  any  explanations  of  your  conduct,  which  I  per- 
fectly understand  ; — I  come  to  witness  a  bond  for  my  friend 
Mr,  Berryl,  if  you  think  proper  to  extort  from  him  such  a 
bond." 

"I  extort  nothing,  my  lord.  Mr.  Berryl,  it  is  quite  a 
voluntary  act,  take  notice,  on  your  part;  sign  or  not,  wit- 
ness or  not,  as  you  please,  gentlemen,"  said  Mordicai, 
sticking  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  recovering  his  look 
of  black  and  fixed  determination. 

"Witness  it,  witness  it,  my  dear  lord,"  said  Mr.  Berryl, 
looking  at  his  mother  and  weeping  sisters;  "witness  it, 
quick!  " 

"Mr.  Berryl  must  just  run  over  his  name  again  in  your 
presence,  my  lord,  with  a  dry  pen,"  said  Mordicai,  putting 
the  pen  into  Mr.  Berryl's  hand. 

"No,  sir,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  "my  friend  shall  never 
sign  it." 

"As  you  please,  my  lord — the  bond  or  the  body,  before 
I  quit  this  house,"  said  Mordicai. 

"Neither,  sir,  shall  you  have;  and  you  quit  this  house 
directly." 

"How!  how! — my  lord,  how's  this?" 

"Sir,  the  arrest  you  have  made  is  as  illegal  as  it  is  inhu- 
man." 

"Illegal,  my  lord!  "  said  Mordicai,  startled. 

"Illegal,  sir.  I  came  into  this  house  at  the  moment 
when  your  bailiff  asked  and  was  refused  admittance. 
Afterwards,  in  the  confusion  of  the  family  above  stairs,  he 

58 


THE  ABSENTEE 

forced  open  the  house  door  with  an  iron  bar — I  saw  him — 
I  am  ready  to  give  evidence  of  the  fact.  Now  proceed  at 
your  peril." 

Mordicai,  without  reply,  snatched  up  his  hat,  and  walked 
towards  the  door;  but  Lord  Colambre  held  the  door  open 
— the  door  was  immediately  at  the  head  of  the  stairs — and 
Mordicai,  seeing  his  indignant  look  and  proud  form,  hesi- 
tated to  pass ;  for  he  had  always  heard  that  Irishmen  are 
"quick  in  the  executive  part  of  justice." 

"Pass  on,  sir,"  repeated  Lord  Colambre,  with  an  air  of 
ineffable  contempt :  "  I  am  a  gentleman — you  have  nothing 
to  fear." 

Mordicai  ran  downstairs ;  Lord  Colambre,  before  he  went 
back  into  the  room,  waited  to  see  Mordicai  and  his  bailiff 
out  of  the  house.  When  Mordicai  was  fairly  at  the  bottom 
of  the  stairs,  he  turned,  and,  white  with  rage,  looked  up  at 
Lord  Colambre. 

"Charity  begins  at  home,  my  lord,"  said  he.  "Look  at 
home — you  shall  pay  for  this,"  added  he,  standing  half- 
shielded  by  the  house  door,  for  Lord  Colambre  moved  for- 
ward as  he  spoke  the  last  words;  "and  I  give  you  this 
warning,  because  I  know  it  will  be  of  no  use  to  you — Your 
most  obedient,  my  lord." 

The  house  door  closed  after  Mordicai. 

"Thank  Heaven  !  "  thought  Lord  Colambre,  "that  I  did 
not  horsewhip  that  mean  wretch !  This  warning  shall  be 
of  use  to  me.     But  it  is  not  time  to  think  of  that  yet." 

Lord  Colambre  turned  from  his  own  affairs  to  those  of 
his  friend,  to  offer  all  the  assistance  and  consolation  in  his 
power.  Sir  John  Berryl  died  that  night.  His  daughters, 
who  had  lived  in  the  highest  style  in  London,  were  left 
totally  unprovided  for.  His  widow  had  mortgaged  her 
jointure.  Mr.  Berryl  had  an  estate  now  left  to  him,  but 
without  any  income.  He  could  not  be  so  dishonest  as  to 
refuse  to  pay  his  father's  just  debts;  he  could  not  let  his 
mother  and  sisters  starve.  The  scene  of  distress  to  which 
Lord  Colambre  was  witness  in  this  family  made  a  still 
greater  impression  upon  him  than  had  been  made  by 
the  warning  or  the  threats  of  Mordicai.     The   similarity 

59 


THE  ABSENTEE 

between  the  circumstances  of  his  friend's  family  and  of 
his  own  struck  him  forcibly. 

All  this  evil  had  arisen  from  Lady  Berryl's  passion  for 
living  in  London  and  at  watering-places.  She  had  made 
her  husband  an  ABSENTEE — an  absentee  from  his  home, 
his  affairs,  his  duties,  and  his  estate.  The  sea,  the  Irish 
Channel,  did  not,  indeed,  flow  between  him  and  his  estate; 
but  it  was  of  little  importance  whether  the  separation  was 
effected  by  land  or  water — the  consequences,  the  negli- 
gence, the  extravagance,  were  the  same. 

Of  the  few  people  of  his  age  who  are  capable  of  profiting 
by  the  experience  of  others,  Lord  Colambre  was  one. 
"Experience,"  as  an  elegant  writer  has  observed,  "is  an 
article  that  may  be  borrowed  with  safety,  and  is  often  dearly 
bought." 


CHAPTER   V. 

IN  the  meantime,  Lady  Clonbrony  had  been  occupied 
with  thoughts  very  different  from  those  which  passed 
in  the  mind  of  her  son.  Though  she  had  never  com- 
pletely recovered  from  her  rheumatic  pains,  she  had  become 
inordinately  impatient  of  confinement  to  her  own  house, 
and  weary  of  those  dull  evenings  at  home,  which  had,  in 
her  son's  absence,  become  insupportable.  She  told  over 
her  visiting  tickets  regularly  twice  a  day,  and  gave  to  every 
card  of  invitation  a  heartfelt  sigh.  Miss  Pratt  alarmed  her 
ladyship,  by  bringing  intelligence  of  some  parties  given  by 
persons  of  consequence,  to  which  she  was  not  invited.  She 
feared  that  she  should  be  forgotten  in  the  world,  well 
knowing  how  soon  the  world  forgets  those  they  do  not  see 
every  day  and  everywhere.  How  miserable  is  the  fine 
lady's  lot  who  cannot  forget  the  world,  and  who  is  forgot 
by  the  world  in  a  moment !  How  much  more  miserable 
still  is  the  condition  of  a  would-be  fine  lady,  working  her 
way  up  in  the  world  with  care  and  pains!  By  her,  every 
slightest  failure  of  attention,  from  persons  of  rank  and 
fashion,  is  marked  and  felt  with  jealous  anxiety,  and  with 

60 


THE  ABSENTEE 

a  sense  of  mortification  the  most  acute — an  invitation 
omitted  is  a  matter  of  the  most  serious  consequence,  not 
only  as  it  regards  the  present,  but  the  future;  for  if  she  be 
not  invited  by  Lady  A,  it  will  lower  her  in  the  eyes  of 
Lady  B,  and  of  all  the  ladies  of  the  alphabet.  It  will  form 
a  precedent  of  the  most  dangerous  and  inevitable  applica- 
tion. If  she  has  nine  invitations,  and  the  tenth  be  want- 
ing, the  nine  have  no  power  to  make  her  happy.  This  was 
precisely  Lady  Clonbrony's  case— there  was  to  be  a  party 
at  Lady  St.  James's,  for  which  Lady  Clonbrony  had  no 
card. 

"So  ungrateful,  so  monstrous,  of  Lady  St.  James! — 
What !  was  the  gala  so  soon  forgotten,  and  all  the  marked 
attentions  paid  that  night  to  Lady  St.  James ! — attentions, 
you  know,  Pratt,  which  were  looked  upon  with  a  jealous 
eye,  and  made  me  enemies  enough,  I  am  told,  in  another 
quarter !  Of  all  people,  I  did  not  expect  to  be  slighted  by 
Lady  St.  James!  " 

Miss  Pratt,  who  was  ever  ready  to  undertake  the  defence 
of  any  person  who  had  a  title,  pleaded,  in  mitigation  of 
censure,  that  perhaps  Lady  St.  James  might  not  be  aware 
that  her  ladyship  was  yet  well  enough  to  venture  out. 

"Oh,  my  dear  Miss  Pratt,  that  cannot  be  the  thing;  for, 
in  spite  of  my  rheumatism,  which  really  was  bad  enough 
last  Sunday,  I  went  on  purpose  to  the  Royal  Chapel,  to 
show  myself  in  the  closet,  and  knelt  close  to  her  ladyship. 
And,  my  dear,  we  curtsied,  and  she  congratulated  me,  after 
church,  upon  my  being  abroad  again,  and  was  so  happy  to 
see  me  look  so  well,  and  all  that — Oh  !  it  is  something  very 
extraordinary  and  unaccountable!  " 

"But,  I  daresay,  a  card  will  come  yet,"  said  Miss  Pratt. 

Upon  this  hint,  Lady  Clonbrony's  hope  revived;  and, 
staying  her  anger,  she  began  to  consider  how  she  could 
manage  to  get  herself  invited.  Refreshing  tickets  were 
left  next  morning  at  Lady  St.  James's  with  their  corners 
properly  turned  up ;  to  do  the  thing  better,  separate  tickets 
for  herself  and  for  Miss  Nugent  were  left  for  each  member 
of  the  family ;  and  her  civil  messages,  left  with  the  foot- 
man, extended  to  the  utmost  possibility  of  reminder.     It 

6i 


THE  ABSENTEE 

had  occurred  to  her  ladyship  that  for  Miss  Somebody,  the 
companion,  of  whom  she  had  never  in  her  life  thought  be- 
fore, she  had  omitted  to  leave  a  card  last  time,  and  she  now 
left  a  note  of  explanation ;  she  further,  with  her  rheumatic 
head  and  arm  out  of  the  coach-window,  sat,  the  wind 
blowing  keen  upon  her,  explaining  to  the  porter  and  the 
footman,  to  discover  whether  her  former  tickets  had  gone 
safely  up  to  Lady  St.  James;  and  on  the  present  occasion, 
to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  she  slid  handsome  expedi- 
tion money  into  the  servant's  hand — "Sir,  you  will  be  sure 
to  remember." — "Oh  certainly,  your  ladyship!" 

She  well  knew  what  dire  ofTence  has  frequently  been 
taken,  what  sad  disasters  have  occurred,  in  the  fashionable 
world,  from  the  neglect  of  a  porter  in  delivering,  or  of  a 
footman  in  carrying  up  one  of  those  talismanic  cards. 
But,  in  spite  of  all  her  manoeuvres,  no  invitation  to  the 
party  arrived  next  day.  Pratt  was  next  set  to  work.  Miss 
Pratt  was  a  most  convenient  go-between,  who,  in  conse- 
quence of  doing  a  thousand  little  services,  to  which  few 
others  of  her  rank  in  life  would  stoop,  had  obtained  the 
entree  to  a  number  of  great  houses,  and  was  behind  the 
scenes  in  many  fashionable  families.  Pratt  could  find  out, 
and  Pratt  could  hint,  and  Pratt  could  manage  to  get  things 
done  cleverly — and  hints  were  given,  in  all  directions,  to 
work  round  to  Lady  St.  James.  But  still  they  did  not 
take  effect.  At  last  Pratt  suggested  that,  perhaps,  though 
everything  else  had  failed,  dried  salmon  might  be  tried 
with  success.  Lord  Clonbrony  had  just  had  some  un- 
commonly good  from  Ireland,  which  Pratt  knew  Lady  St. 
James  would  like  to  have  at  her  supper,  because  a  certain 
personage,  whom  she  would  not  name,  was  particularly 
fond  of  it. — Wheel  within  wheel  in  the  fine  world,  as  well 
as  in  the  political  world ! — Bribes  for  all  occasions,  and  for 
all  ranks!  The  timely  present  was  sent,  accepted  with 
many  thanks,  and  understood  as  it  was  meant.  Per  favour 
of  this  propitiatory  offering,  and  of  a  promise  of  half  a 
dozen  pair  of  real  Limerick  gloves  to  Miss  Pratt — a  pro- 
mise which  Pratt  clearly  comprehended  to  be  a  conditional 
promise — the  grand   object   was  at  length  accomplished. 

62 


THE  ABSENTEE 

The  very  day  before  the  party  was  to  take  place  came 
cards  of  invitation  to  Lady  Clonbrony  and  to  Miss  Nugent, 
with  Lady  St.  James's  apologies;  her  ladyship  was  con- 
cerned to  find  that,  by  some  negligence  of  her  servants, 
these  cards  were  not  sent  in  proper  time.  "How  slight  an 
apology  will  do  from  some  people  !  "  thought  Miss  Nugent ; 
"how  eager  to  forgive,  when  it  is  for  our  interest  or  our 
pleasure;  how  well  people  act  the  being  deceived,  even 
when  all  parties  know  that  they  see  the  whole  truth ;  and 
how  low  pride  will  stoop  to  gain  its  object!  " 

Ashamed  of  the  whole  transaction,  Miss  Nugent  earn- 
estly wished  that  a  refusal  should  be  sent,  and  reminded 
her  aunt  of  her  rheumatism ;  but  rheumatism  and  all  other 
objections  were  overruled — Lady  Clonbrony  would  go. 
It  was  just  when  this  affair  was  thus,  in  her  opinion,  suc- 
cessfully settled,  that  Lord  Colambre  came  in,  with  a 
countenance  of  unusual  seriousness,  his  mind  full  of  the 
melancholy  scenes  he  had  witnessed  in  his  friend's  family. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Colambre?  " 

He  related  what  had  passed ;  he  described  the  brutal 
conduct  of  Mordicai ;  the  anguish  of  the  mother  and  sisters ; 
the  distress  of  Mr.  Berryl.  Tears  rolled  down  Miss  Nu- 
gent's  cheeks.  Lady  Clonbrony  declared  it  was  very 
shocking ;  listened  with  attention  to  all  the  particulars; 
but  never  failed  to  correct  her  son,  whenever  he  said  Mr. 
Berryl. 

'' Sir  Arthur  Berryl,  you  mean." 

She  was,  however,  really  touched  with  compassion  when 
he  spoke  of  Lady  Berryl's  destitute  condition  ;  and  her  son 
was  going  on  to  repeat  what  Mordicai  had  said  to  him,  but 
Lady  Clonbrony  interrupted — 

"Oh,  my  dear  Colambre!  don't  repeat  that  detestable 
man's  impertinent  speeches  to  me.  If  there  is  anything 
really  about  business,  speak  to  your  father.  At  any  rate, 
don't  tell  us  of  it  now,  because  I've  a  hundred  things  to 
do,"  said  her  ladyship,  hurrying  out  of  the  room.  "Grace 
— Grace  Nugent !     I  want  you  !  " 

Lord  Colambre  sighed  deeply. 

"Don't  despair,"  said  Miss  Nugent,  as  she  followed  to 

63 


THE  ABSENTEE 

obey  her  aunt's  summons.  "Don't  despair ;  don't  attempt 
to  speak  to  her  again  till  to-morrow  morning.  Her  head 
is  now  full  of  Lady  St.  James's  party.  When  it  is  emptied 
of  that,  you  will  have  a  better  chance.     Never  despair." 

"Never,  while  you  encourage  me  to  hope — that  any 
good  can  be  done." 

Lady  Clonbrony  was  particularly  glad  that  she  had  car- 
ried her  point  about  this  party  at  Lady  St.  James's;  be- 
cause, from  the  first  private  intimation  that  the  Duchess 
of  Torcaster  was  to  be  there,  her  ladyship  flattered  herself 
that  the  long-desired  introduction  might  then  be  accom- 
plished. But  of  this  hope  Lady  St.  James  had  likewise 
received  intimation  from  the  double-dealing  Miss  Pratt ; 
and  a  warning  note  was  despatched  to  the  duchess  to  let 
her  grace  know  that  circumstances  had  occurred  which  had 
rendered  it  impossible  not  to  ask  the  Clonbronies.  An 
excuse,  of  course,  for  not  going  to  this  party  was  sent  by 
the  duchess — her  grace  did  not  like  large  parties — she 
would  have  the  pleasure  of  accepting  Lady  St.  James's 
invitation  for  lier  select  party  on  Wednesday  the  loth. 
Into  these  select  parties  Lady  Clonbrony  had  never  been 
admitted.  In  return  for  her  great  entertainments  she  was 
invited  to  great  entertainments,  to  large  parties ;  but  farther 
she  could  never  penetrate. 

At  Lady  St.  James's,  and  with  her  set,  Lady  Clonbrony 
suffered  a  different  kind  of  mortification  from  that  which 
Lady  Langdale  and  Mrs.  Dareville  made  her  endure.  She 
was  safe  from  the  witty  raillery,  the  sly  innuendo,  the  in- 
solent mimicry;  but  she  was  kept  at  a  cold,  impassable 
distance,  by  ceremony — "So  far  shalt  thou  go,  and  no 
farther"  was  expressed  in  every  look,  in  every  word,  and 
,  in  a  thousand  different  ways. 

By  the  most  punctilious  respect  and  nice  regard  to  pre- 
cedency, even  by  words  of  courtesy — "Your  ladyship  does 
me  honour,"  etc. — Lady  St.  James  contrived  to  mortify 
and  to  mark  the  difference  between  those  with  whom 
she  was,  and  with  whom  she  was  not,  upon  terms  of  in- 
timacy and  equality.  Thus  the  ancient  grandees  of  Spain 
drew  a  line  of  demarcation  between  themselves  and  the 

64 


THE  ABSENTEE 

newly-created  nobility.  Whenever  or  wherever  they  met, 
they  treated  the  new  nobles  with  the  utmost  respect,  never 
addressed  them  but  with  all  their  titles,  with  low  bows, 
and  with  all  the  appearance  of  being,  with  the  most  perfect 
consideration,  anything  but  their  equals;  whilst  towards 
one  another  the  grandees  laid  aside  their  state,  and  omit- 
ting their  titles,  it  was,  "Alcala— Medina — Sidonia — Infan- 
tado, ' '  and  a  freedom  and  familiarity  which  marked  equality. 
Entrenched  in  etiquette  in  this  manner,  and  mocked  with 
marks  of  respect,  it  was  impossible  either  to  intrude  or  to 
complain  of  being  excluded. 

At  supper  at  Lady  St.  James's,  Lady  Clonbrony's  pre- 
sent was  pronounced  by  some  gentleman  to  be  remarkably 
high  flavoured.  This  observation  turned  the  conversation 
to  Irish  commodities  and  Ireland.  Lady  Clonbrony,  pos- 
sessed by  the  idea  th^t  it  was  disadvantageous  to  appear  as 
an  Irishwoman,  or  as  a  favourer  of  Ireland,  began  to  be 
embarrassed  by  Lady  St.  James's  repeated  thanks.  Had 
it  been  in  her  power  to  offer  anything  else  with  propriety, 
she  would  not  have  thought  of  sending  her  ladyship  any- 
thing from  Ireland.  Vexed  by  the  questions  that  were 
asked  her  about  her  country.  Lady  Clonbrony,  as  usual, 
denied  it  to  be  her  country,  and  went  on  to  depreciate  and 
abuse  everything  Irish;  to  declare  that  there  was  no  pos- 
sibility of  living  in  Ireland  ;  and  that,  for  her  own  part,  she 
was  resolved  never  to  return  thither.  Lady  St.  James, 
preserving  perfect  silence,  let  her  go  on.  Lady  Clonbrony, 
imagining  that  this  silence  arose  from  coincidence  of  opin- 
ion, proceeded  with  all  the  eloquence  she  possessed,  which 
was  very  little,  repeating  the  same  exclamations,  and  reit- 
erating her  vow  of  perpetual  expatriation ;  till  at  last  an 
elderly  lady,  who  was  a  stranger  to  her,  and  whom  she 
had  till  this  moment  scarcely  noticed,  took  up  the  defence 
of  Ireland  with  much  warmth  and  energy :  the  eloquence 
with  which  she  spoke,  and  the  respect  with  which  she  was 
heard,  astonished  Lady  Clonbrony. 

"Who  is  she?  "  whispered  her  ladyship. 

"Does  not  your  ladyship  know  Lady  Oranmore — the 
Irish  Lady  Oranmore?  " 

s  65 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Lord  bless  me ! — what  have  I  said  ! — what  have  I  done ! 
Oh !  why  did  not  you  give  me  a  hint,  Lady  St.  James? " 

"I  was  not  aware  that  your  ladyship  was  not  acquainted 
with  Lady  Oranmore, "  replied  Lady  St.  James,  unmoved 
by  her  distress. 

Everybody  sympathised  with  Lady  Oranmore,  and  ad- 
mired the  honest  zeal  with  which  she  abided  by  her  coun- 
try, and  defended  it  against  unjust  aspersions  and  affected 
execrations.  Every  one  present  enjoyed  Lady  Clonbrony's 
confusion,  except  Miss  Nugent,  who  sat  with  her  eyes 
bowed  down  by  penetrative  shame  during  the  whole  of 
this  scene ;  she  was  glad  that  Lord  Colambre  was  not  wit- 
ness to  it ;  and  comforted  herself  with  the  hope  that,  upon 
the  whole.  Lady  Clonbrony  would  be  benefited  by  the 
pain  she  had  felt.  This  instance  might  convince  her  that 
it  was  not  necessary  to  deny  her  coiyitry  to  be  received  in 
any  company  in  England ;  and  that  those  who  have  the 
courage  and  steadiness  to  be  themselves,  and  to  support 
what  they  feel  and  believe  to  be  the  truth,  must  command 
respect.  Miss  Nugent  hoped  that  in  consequence  of  this 
conviction  Lady  Clonbrony  would  lay  aside  the  little  affec- 
tations by  which  her  manners  were  painfully  constrained 
and  ridiculous;  and,  above  all,  she  hoped  that  what  Lady 
Oranmore  had  said  of  Ireland  might  dispose  her  aunt  to 
listen  with  patience  to  all  Lord  Colambre  might  urge  in 
favour  of  returning  to  her  home.  But  Miss  Nugent  hoped 
in  vain.  Lady  Clonbrony  never  in  her  life  generalised  any 
observations,  or  drew  any  but  a  partial  conclusion  from 
the  most  striking  facts. 

"Lord  !  my  dear  Grace !  "  said  she,  as  soon  as  they  were 
seated  in  their  carriage,  "what  a  scrape  I  got  into  to-night 
at  supper,  and  what  disgrace  I  came  to ! — and  all  this  be- 
cause I  did  not  know  Lady  Oranmore.  Now  you  see  the 
inconceivable  disadvantage  of  not  knowing  everybody — 
everybody  of  a  certain  rank,  of  course,  I  mean 

Miss  Nugent  endeavoured  to  slide  in  her  own  moral  on 
the  occasion,  but  it  would  not  do. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  Lady  Oranmore  may  talk  in  that  kind  of 
style  of  Ireland,  because,  on  the  other  hand,  she  is  so  highly 

66 


THE  ABSENTEE 

connected  in  England ;  and,  besides,  she  is  an  old  lady,  and 
may  take  liberties ;  in  short,  she  is  Lady  Oranmore,  and 
that's  enough." 

The  next  morning,  when  they  all  met  at  breakfast,  Lady 
Clonbrony  complained  bitterly  of  her  increased  rheumat- 
ism, of  the  disagreeable,  stupid  party  they  had  had  the 
preceding  night,  and  of  the  necessity  of  going  to  another 
formal  party  that  night,  the  next,  and  the  next,  and,  in  the 
true  fine  lady  style,  deplored  her  situation,  and  the  impos- 
sibility of  avoiding  those  things, 

Which  felt  they  curse,  yet  covet  still  to  feel. 

Miss  Nugent  determined  to  retire  as  soon  as  she  could 
from  the  breakfast-room,  to  leave  Lord  Colambre  an  oppor- 
tunity of  talking  over  his  family  affairs  at  full  liberty.  She 
knew  by  the  seriousness  of  his  countenance  that  his  mind 
was  intent  upon  doing  so,  and  she  hoped  that  his  influence 
with  his  father  and  mother  would  not  be  exerted  in  vain. 
But  just  as  she  was  rising  from  the  breakfast-table,  in  came 
Sir  Terence  O'Fay,  and,  seating  himself  quite  at  his  ease, 
in  spite  of  Lady  Clonbrony's  repulsive  looks,  his  awe  of 
Lord  Colambre  having  now  worn  off — 

"I'm  tired,"  said  he,  "and  have  a  right  to  be  tired;  for 
it's  no  small  walk  I've  taken  for  the  good  of  this  noble 
family  this  morning.  And,  Miss  Nugent,  before  I  say 
more,  I'll  take  a  cup  of  ta  from  you,  if  you  please." 

Lady  Clonbrony  rose,  with  great  stateliness,  and  walked 
to  the  farthest  end  of  the  room,  where  she  established  her- 
self at  her  writing-table,  and  began  to  write  notes. 

Sir  Terence  wiped  his  forehead  deliberately. 

"Then  I've  had  a  fine  run — Miss  Nugent,  I  believe  you 
never  saw  me  run ;  but  I  can  run,  I  promise  you,  when  it's 
to  serve  a  friend.  And,  my  lord  (turning  to  Lord  Clon- 
brony), what  do  you  think  I  run  for  this  morning — to  buy 
a  bargain— and  of  what? — a  bargain  of  a  bad  debt — a  debt 
of  yours,  which  I  bargained  for,  and  up  just  in  time — and 
Mordicai's  ready  to  hang  himself  this  minute.  For  what 
do  you  think  but  that  rascal  was  bringing  upon  you — but 
an  execution? — he  was." 

67 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"An  execution!"  repeated  everybody  present,  except 
Lord  Colambre. 

"And  how  has  this  been  prevented,  sir?"  said  Lord 
Colambre. 

"Oh!  let  me  alone  for  that,"  said  Sir  Terence.  "I  got  a 
hint  from  my  little  friend,  Paddy  Brady,  who  would  not  be 
paid  for  it  either,  though  he's  as  poor  as  a  rat.  Well !  as 
soon  as  I  got  the  hint,  I  dropped  the  thing  I  had  in  my 
hand,  which  was  the  Dublin  Evening,  and  ran  for  the  bare 
life — for  there  wasn't  a  coach — in  my  slippers,  as  I  was,  to 
get  into  the  prior  creditor's  shoes,  who  is  the  little  solicitor 
that  lives  in  Crutched  Friars,  which  Mordicai  never  dreamt 
of,  luckily;  so  he  was  very  genteel,  though  he  was  taken 
on  a  sudden,  and  from  his  breakfast,  which  an  Englishman 
don't  like  particularly — I  popped  him  a  douceur  of  a 
draught,  at  thirty-one  days,  on  Garraghty,  the  agent ;  of 
which  he  must  get  notice;  but  I  won't  descant  on  the  law 
before  the  ladies — he  handed  me  over  his  debt  and  execu- 
tion, and  he  made  me  prior  creditor  in  a  trice.  Then  I 
took  coach  in  state,  the  first  I  met,  and  away  with  me  to 
Long  Acre — saw  Mordicai.  'Sir,'  says  I,  'I  hear  you're 
meditating  an  execution  on  a  friend  of  mine.'  'Am  I?' 
said  the  rascal;  'who  told  you  so?'  'No  matter,'  said  I; 
'but  I  just  called  in  to  let  you  know  there's  no  use  in  life 
of  your  execution ;  for  there's  a  prior  creditor  with  his 
execution  to  be  satisfied  first.'  So  he  made  a  great  many 
black  faces,  and  said  a  great  deal,  which  I  never  listened 
to,  but  came  off  here  clean  to  tell  you  all  the  story." 

"Not  one  word  of  which  do  I  understand,"  said  Lady 
Clonbrony. 

"Then,  my  dear,  you  are  very  ungrateful,"  said  Lord 
Clonbrony. 

Lord  Colambre  said  nothing,  for  he  wished  to  learn  more 
of  Sir  Terence  O' Fay's  character,  of  the  state  of  his  father's 
affairs,  and  of  the  family  methods  of  proceeding  in  matters 
of  business. 

"Faith!  Terry,  I  know  Fm  very  thankful  to  you — but 
an  execution's  an  ugly  thing — and  I  hope  there's  no  dan- 
ger  " 

68 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Never  fear!  "  said  Sir  Terence:  "haven't  I  been  at  my 
wits'  ends  for  myself  or  my  friends  ever  since  I  come  to 
man's  estate — to  years  of  discretion,  I  should  say,  for  the 
deuce  a  foot  of  estate  have  I !  But  use  has  sharpened  my 
wits  pretty  well  for  your  service;  so  never  be  in  dread,  my 
good  lord  ;  for  look  ye  !  "  cried  the  reckless  knight,  sticking 
his  arms  akimbo — "look  ye  here!  in  Sir  Terence  O'Fay 
stands  a  host  that  desires  no  better  than  to  encounter, 
single  witted,  all  the  duns  in  the  united  kingdoms,  Mordi- 
cai  the  Jew  inclusive." 

"Ah!  that's  the  devil,  that  Mordicai,"  said  Lord  Clon- 
brony;  "that's  the  only  man  on  earth  I  dread." 

"Why,  he  is  only  a  coachmaker,  is  not  he?"  said  Lady 
Clonbrony:  "I  can't  think  how  you  can  talk,  my  lord,  of 
dreading  such  a  low  man.  Tell  him,  if  he's  troublesome, 
we  won't  bespeak  any  more  carriages ;  and,  I'm  sure,  I  wish 
you  would  not  be  so  silly,  my  lord,  to  employ  him  any 
more,  when  you  know  he  disappointed  me  the  last  birth- 
day about  the  landau,  which  I  have  not  got  yet." 

"Nonsense,  my  dear,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony;  "you  don't 
know  what  you  are  talking  of.  Terry,  I  say,  even  a  friendly 
execution  is  an  ugly  thing." 

"  Phoo  !  phoo  ! — an  ugly  thing !  So  is  a  fit  of  the  gout — 
but  one's  all  the  better  for  it  after.  'Tis  just  a  renewal  of 
life,  my  lord,  for  which  one  must  pay  a  bit  of  a  fine,  you 
know.  Take  patience,  and  leave  me  to  manage  all  pro- 
perly— you  know  I'm  used  to  these  things.  Only  you  recol- 
lect, if  you  please,  how  I  managed  my  friend  Lord ; 

it's  bad  to  be  mentioning  names — but  Lord  everybody- 
knows-who — didn't  I  bring  him  through  cleverly,  when 
there  was  that  rascally  attempt  to  seize  the  family  plate? 
I  had  notice,  and  what  did  I  do,  but  broke  open  a  parti- 
tion between  that  lord's  house  and  my  lodgings,  which 
I  had  taken  next  door;  and  so,  when  the  sheriff's  officers 
were  searching  below  on  the  ground  floor,  I  just  shoved 
the  plate  easy  through  to  my  bedchamber  at  a  moment's 
warning,  and  then  bid  the  gentlemen  walk  in,  for  they 
couldn't  set  a  foot  in  my  paradise,  the  devils !  So  they 
stood   looking   at    it    through   the  wall,  and  cursing  me, 

69 


THE  ABSENTEE 

and  I  holding  both  my  sides  with  laughter  at  their  fallen 
faces." 

Sir  Terence  and  Lord  Clonbrony  laughed  in  concert. 

"This  is  a  good  story,"  said  Miss  Nugent,  smiling;  "but 
surely.  Sir  Terence,  such  things  are  never  done  in  real  life?  " 

"Done!  ay,  are  they;  and  I  could  tell  you  a  hundred 
better  strokes,  my  dear  Miss  Nugent." 

"Grace!"  cried  Lady  Clonbrony,  "do  pray  have  the 
goodness  to  seal  and  send  these  notes;  for  really,"  whis- 
pered she,  as  her  niece  came  to  the  table,  "I  cazvnt  stea,  I 
cawnt  bear  that  man's  vice,  his  accent  grows  horrider  and 
horrider !  " 

Her  ladyship  rose,  and  left  the  room. 

"Why,  then,"  continued  Sir  Terence,  following  up  Miss 
Nugent  to  the  table,  where  she  was  sealing  letters,  "I  must 
tell  you  how  I  s^irved  that  same  man  on  another  occasion, 
and  got  the  victory  too." 

No  general  of^cer  could  talk  of  his  victories,  or  fight  his 
battles  o'er  again,  with  more  complacency  than  Sir  Terence 
O'Fay  recounted  his  civil  exploits. 

"Now  I'll  tell  Miss  Nugent.  There  was  a  footman  in 
the  family,  not  an  Irishman,  but  one  of  your  powdered  Eng- 
lish scoundrels  that  ladies  are  so  fond  of  having  hanging 
to  the  backs  of  their  carriages ;  one  Fleming  he  was,  that 
turned  spy,  and  traitor,  and  informer,  went  privately  and 
gave  notice  to  the  creditors  where  the  plate  was  hid  in  the 
thickness  of  the  chimney;  but  if  he  did,  what  happened? 
Why,  I  had  my  counter-spy,  an  honest  little  Irish  boy,  in 
the  creditor's  shop,  that  I  had  secured  with  a  little  douceur 
of  usquebaugh  ;  and  he  outwitted,  as  was  natural,  the  Eng- 
lish lying  valet,  and  gave  us  notice  just  in  the  nick,  and  I 
got  ready  for  their  reception;  and.  Miss  Nugent,  T  only 
wish  you'd  seen  the  excellent  sport  we  had,  letting  them 
follow  the  scent  they  got ;  and  when  they  were  sure  of 
their  game,  what  did  they  find? — Ha!  ha!  ha! — dragged 
out,  after  a  world  of  labour,  a  heavy  box  of — a  load  of 
brickbats;  not  an  item  of  my  friend's  plate — that  was  all 
snug  in  the  coal-hole,  where  them  dunces  never  thought  of 
looking  for  it.      Ha!  ha!  ha!  " 

70 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"But  come,  Terry,"  cried  Lord  Clonbrony,  "I'll  pull 
down  your  pride.  How  finely,  another  time,  your  job  of 
the  false  ceiling  answered  in  the  hall.  I've  heard  that 
story,  and  have  been  told  how  the  sheriff's  fellow  thrust 
his  bayonet  up  through  your  false  plaster,  and  down  came 
tumbling  the  family  plate — hey,  Terry?  That  hit  cost 
your  friend.  Lord  everybody-knows-who,  more  than  your 
head's  worth,  Terry." 

"I  ask  your  pardon,  my  lord,  it  never  cost  him  a 
farthing." 

"When  he  paid  ;^7000  for  the  plate,  to  redeem  it?  " 

"Well!  and  did  not  I  make  up  for  that  at  the  races  of 

?     The  creditors  learned  that  my  lord's  horse,  Na- 

boclish,  was  to  run  at races ;  and,  as  the  sheriff's  officer 

knew  he  dare  not  touch  him  on  the  race-ground,  what  does 
he  do,  but  he  comes  down  early  in  the  morning  on  the 
mail-coach,  and  walks  straight  down  to  the  livery  stables. 
He  had  an  exact  description  of  the  stables,  and  the  stall, 
and  the  horse's  body-clothes. 

"I  was  there,  seeing  the  horse  taken  care  of;  and,  know- 
ing the  cut  of  the  fellow's  jib,  what  does  I  do,  but  whips 
the  body-clothes  off  Naboclish,  and  claps  them  upon  a  gar- 
rone  that  the  priest  would  not  ride. 

"In  comes  the  bailiff — 'Good  morrow  to  you,  sir,'  says 
I,  leading  out  of  the  stable  my  lord's  horse,  with  an  ould 
saddle  and  bridle  on. 

'Tim  Neal,'  says  I  to  the  groom,  who  was  rubbing 
down  the  garrone's  heels,  'mind  your  hits  to-day,  and 
wee  I -wet  the  plate  to-night.' 

'Not  so  fast,  neither,'  says  the  bailiff — 'here's  my  writ 
for  seizing  the  horse.' 

'Och,'  says  I,  'you  wouldn't  be  so  cruel.* 

"  'That's  all  my  eye,'  says  he,  seizing  the  garrone,  while 

I  mounted  Naboclish, and  rode  him  off  deliberately  to ' ' 

Ha !  ha !  ha ! — -That  was  neat,  I  grant  you,  Terry, ' '  said 
Lord  Clonbrony.  "But  what  a  dolt  of  a  born  ignoramus 
must  that  sheriff's  fellow  have  been,  not  to  know  Naboclish 
when  he  saw  him!  " 

"But  stay,  my  .lord — stay.  Miss  Nugent — I  have  more 

71 


THE  ABSENTEE 

for  you,"  following  her  wherever  she  moved.  "I  did  not 
let  him  off  so,  even.  At  the  cant,  I  bid  and  bid  against 
them  for  the  pretended  Naboclish,  till  I  left  him  on  their 
hands  for  500  guineas.  Ha!  ha!  ha! — was  not  that  fam- 
ous? " 

"But,"  said  Miss  Nugent,  "I  cannot  believe  you  are  in 
earnest,  Sir  Terence.     Surely  this  would  be " 

"What?— out  with  it,  my  dear  Miss  Nugent." 

"I  am  afraid  of  offending  you." 

"You  can't,  my  dear,  I  defy  you — say  the  word  that 
came  to  the  tongue's  end;  it's  always  the  best." 

"I  was  going  to  say,  swindling,"  said  the  young  lady, 
colouring  deeply. 

"Oh!  you  was  going  to  say  wrong,  then  !  It's  not  called 
swindling  amongst  gentlemen  who  know  the  world — it's 
only  jockeying — fine  sport — and  very  honourable  to  help 
a  friend  at  a  dead  lift.  Anything  to  get  a  friend  out  of  a 
present  pressing  difficulty," 

"And  when  the  present  difficulty  is  over,  do  your  friends 
never  think  of  the  future?  " 

"The  future!  leave  the  future  to  posterity,"  said  Sir 
Terence;  "I'm  counsel  only  for  the  present;  and  when  the 
evil  comes,  it's  time  enough  to  think  of  it.  I  can't  bring 
the  guns  of  my  wits  to  bear  till  the  enemy's  alongside  of 
me,  or  within  sight  of  me  at  the  least.  And  besides,  there 
never  was  a  good  comniander  yet,  by  sea  or  land,  that 
would  tell  his  little  expedients  beforehand,  or  before  the 
very  day  of  battle." 

"It  must  be  a  sad  thing,"  said  Miss  Nugent,  sighing 
deeply,  "to  be  reduced  to  live  by  little  expedients— daily 
expedients." 

Lord  Colambre  struck  his  forehead,  but  said  nothing. 

"But  if  you  are  beating  your  brains  about  your  own 
affairs,  my  Lord  Colambre,  my  dear,"  said  Sir  Terence, 
"there's  an  easy  way  of  settling  your  family  affairs  at 
once;  and,  since  you  don't  like  little  daily  expedients, 
Miss  Nugent,  there's  one  great  expedient,  and  an  ex- 
pedient for  life,  that  will  settle  it  all  to  your  satisfaction 
— and  ours.     I  hinted  it  delicately  to  you  before,  but,  be- 

^2 


THE  ABSENTEE 

tween  friends,  delicacy  is  impertinent ;  so  I  tell  you,  in 
plain  English,  you've  nothing  to  do  but  go  and  propose 

yourself,  just  as  you  stand,  to  the  heiress  Miss  B ,  that 

desires  no  better " 

"Sir!  "  cried  Lord  Colambre,  stepping  forward,  red  with 
sudden  anger.     Miss  Nugent  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm — 

"Oh,  my  lord  !  " 

"Sir  Terence  O'Fay,"  continued  Lord  Colambre,  in  a 
moderated  tone,  "you  are  wrong  to  mention  that  young 
lady's  name  in  such  a  manner." 

"Why,  then,  I  said  only  Miss  B ,  and  there  are  a 

whole  hive  of  bees.  But  I'll  engage  she'd  thank  me  for 
what  I  suggested,  and  think  herself  the  queen  bee  if  my 
expedient  was  adopted  by  you." 

"Sir  Terence,"  said  his  lordship,  smiling,  "if  my  father 
thinks  proper  that  you  should  manage  his  affairs,  and  de- 
vise expedients  for  him,  I  have  nothing  to  say  on  that 
point;  but  I  must  beg  you  will  not  trouble  yourself  to 
suggest  expedients  for  me,  and  that  you  will  have  the 
goodness  to  leave  me  to  settle  my  own  affairs." 

Sir  Terence  made  a  low  bow,  and  was  silent  for  five  sec- 
onds; then  turning  to  Lord  Clonbrony,  who  looked  much 
more  abashed  than  he  did — 

"By  the  wise  one,  my  good  lord,  I  believe  there  are  some 
men — noblemen,  too — that  don't  know  their  friends  from 
their  enemies.  It's  my  firm  persuasion,  now,  that  if  I  had 
served  you  as  I  served  my  friend  I  was  talking  of,  your  son 
there  would,  ten  to  one,  think  I  had  done  him  an  injury  by 
saving  the  family  plate." 

"I  certainly  should,  sir.  The  family  plate,  sir,  is  not  the 
first  object  in  my  mind,"  replied  Lord  Colambre;  "family 

honour Nay,  Miss  Nugent,  I  must  speak,"  continued 

his  lordship,  perceiving,  by  her  countenance,  that  she  was 
alarmed. 

"Never  fear,  Miss  Nugent  dear,"  said  Sir  Terence; 
"I'm  as  cool  as  a  cucumber.  Faith!  then,  my  Lord 
Colambre,  I  agree  with  you,  that  family  honour's  a  mighty 
fine  thing,  only  troublesome  to  one's  self  and  one's  friends, 
and  expensive  to  keep  up  with  all  the  other  expenses  and 

73 


THE  ABSENTEE 

debts  a  gentleman  has  nowadays.  So  I,  that  am  under 
no  natural  obligations  to  it  by  birth  or  otherwise,  have  just 
stood  by  through  life,  and  asked  myself,  before  I  would 
volunteer  being  bound  to  it,  what  could  this  same  family 
honour  do  for  a  man  in  this  world?  And,  first  and  fore- 
most, I  never  remember  to  see  family  honour  stand  a  man 
in  much  stead  in  a  court  of  law — never  saw  family  honour 
stand  against  an  execution,  or  a  custodiam,  or  an  injunc- 
tion even.  'Tis  a  rare  thing,  this  same  family  honour,  and 
a  very  fine  thing ;  but  I  never  knew  it  yet,  at  a  pinch,  pay 
for  a  pair  of  boots  even,"  added  Sir  Terence,  drawing  up 
his  own  with  much  complacency. 

At  this  moment  Sir  Terence  was  called  out  of  the  room 
by  one  who  wanted  to  speak  to  him  on  particular  business. 

"My  dear  father,"  cried  Lord  Colambre,  "do  not  follow 
him ;  stay  for  one  moment,  and  hear  your  son — your  true 
friend." 

Miss  Nugent  went  out  of  the  room,  that  she  might  leave 
the  father  and  son  at  liberty. 

"Hear  your  natural  friend  for  one  moment,"  cried  Lord 
Colambre.  "Let  me  beseech  you,  father,  not  to  have  re- 
course to  any  of  these  paltry  expedients,  but  trust  your 
son  with  the  state  of  your  affairs,  and  we  shall  find  some 
honourable  means " 

"Yes,  yes,  yes,  very  true;  when  you're  of  age,  Colam- 
bre, we'll  talk  of  it;  but  nothing  can  be  done  till  then. 
We  shall  get  on,  we  shall  get  through,  very  well,  till  then, 
with  Terry's  assistance.  And  I  must  beg  you  will  not 
say  a  word  more  against  Terry — I  can't  bear  it — I  can't 
hear  it — I  can't  do  without  him.  Pray  don't  detain  me — 
I  can  say  no  more — except,"  added  he,  returning  to  his 
usual  concluding  sentence,  "that  there  need,  at  all  events, 
be  none  of  this,  if  people  would  but  live  upon  their  own 
estates,  and  kill  their  own  mutton."  He  stole  out  of  the 
room,  glad  to  escape,  however  shabbily,  from  present  ex- 
planation and  present  pain.  There  are  persons  without 
resource  who  in  difficulties  return  always  to  the  same 
point,  and  usually  to  the  same  words. 

While  Lord   Colambre  was  walking  up  and  down  the 

74 


THE  ABSENTEE 

room,  much  vexed  and  disappointed  at  finding  that  he 
could  make  no  impression  on  his  father's  mind,  nor  obtain 
his  confidence  as  to  his  family  affairs,  Lady  Clonbrony's 
woman,  Mrs.  Petito,  knocked  at  the  door,  with  a  message 
from  her  lady,  to  beg,  if  Lord  Colambre  was  by  himself,  he 
would  go  to  her  dressing-room,  as  she  wished  to  have  a 
conference  with  him.      He  obeyed  her  summons. 

"Sit  down,  my  dear  Colambre "     And  she  began 

precisely  with  her  old  sentence — 

"With  the  fortune  1  brought  your  father,  and  with  my 
lord's  estate,  I  cawnt  understand  the  meaning  of  all  these 
pecuniary  difficulties;  and  all  that  strange  creature  Sir 
Terence  says  is  algebra  to  me,  who  speak  English.  And  I 
am  particularly  sorry  he  was  let  in  this  morning — but  he's 
such  a  brute  that  he  does  not  think  anything  of  forcing 
one's  door,  and  he  tells  my  footman  he  does  not  mind  not 
at  home  a  pinch  of  snuff.  Now  what  can  you  do  with  a 
man  who  could  say  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know — the 
world's  at  an  end." 

"I  wish  my  father  had  nothing  to  do  with  him,  ma'am, 
as  much  as  you  can  wish  it,"  said  Lord  Colambre;  "but  I 
have  said  all  that  a  son  can  with  propriety  say,  and  with- 
out effect." 

"What  particularly  provokes  me  against  him,"  continued 
Lady  Clonbrony,  "is  what  I  have  just  heard  from  Grace, 
who  was  really  hurt  by  it,  too,  for  she  is  the  warmest  friend 
in  the  world :  I  allude  to  the  creature's  indelicate  way  of 
touching  upon  a  tender  pint,  and  mentioning  an  amiable 
young  heiress's  name.  My  dear  Colambre,  I  trust  you 
have  given  me  credit  for  my  inviolable  silence  all  this  time 
upon  the  pint  nearest  my  heart.  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  you 
was  so  warm  when  she  was  mentioned  inadvertently  by 
that  brute,  and  I  trust  you  now  see  the  advantages  of  the 
projected  union  in  as  strong  and  agreeable  a  pint  of  view 
as  I  do,  my  own  Colambre ;  and  I  should  leave  things  to 
themselves,  and  let  you  prolong  the  decs  of  courtship  as 
you  please,  only  for  what  I  now  hear  incidentally  from  my 
lord  and  the  brute,  about  pecuniary  embarrassments,  and 
the  necessity  of  something  being  done  before  next  winter. 

75 


THE  ABSENTEE 

And  indeed  I  think  now,  in  propriety,  the  proposal  can- 
not be  delayed  much  longer;  for  the  world  begins  to  talk 
of  the  thing  as  done;  and  even  Mrs.  Broadhurst,  I  know, 
had  no  doubt  that,  if  this  contretemps  about  the  poor  Berryls 
had  not  occurred,  your  proposal  would  have  been  made 
before  the  end  of  last  week." 

Our  hero  was  not  a  man  to  make  a  proposal  because 
Mrs.  Broadhurst  expected  it,  or  to  marry  because  the 
world  said  he  was  going  to  be  married.  He  steadily  said 
that,  from  the  first  moment  the  subject  had  been  men- 
tioned, he  had  explained  himself  distinctly;  that  the  young 
lady's  friends  could  not,  therefore,  be  under  any  doubt  as 
to  his  intentions;  that,  if  they  had  voluntarily  deceived 
themselves,  or  exposed  the  lady  in  situations  from  which 
the  world  was  led  to  make  false  conclusions,  he  was  not 
•answerable :  he  felt  his  conscience  at  ease — entirely  so,  as 
he  was  convinced  that  the  young  lady  herself,  for  whose 
merit,  talents,  independence,  and  generosity  of  character 
he  professed  high  respect,  esteem,  and  admiration,  had  no 
doubts  either  of  the  extent  or  the  nature  of  his  regard. 

"Regard,  respect,  esteem,  admiration! — Why,  my  dear- 
est Colambre!  this  is  saying  all  I  want;  satisfies  me,  and  I 
am  sure  would  satisfy  Mrs.  Broadhurst  and  Miss  Broadhurst 
too." 

"No  doubt  it  will,  ma'am;  but  not  if  I  aspired  to  the 
honour  of  Miss  Broadhurst's  hand,  or  professed  myself  her 
lover. 

"My  dear,  you  are  mistaken;  Miss  Broadhurst  is  too 
sensible  a  girl,  a  vast  deal,  to  look  for  love,  and  a  dying 
lover,  and  all  that  sort  of  stuff;  I  am  persuaded— indeed 
I  have  it  from  good,  from  the  best  authority — that  the 
young  lady — you  know  one  must  be  delicate  in  these  cases, 
where  a  young  lady  of  such  fortune,  and  no  despicable 
family  too  is  concerned;  therefore  I  cannot  speak  quite 
plainly — but  I  say  I  have  it  from  the  best  authority,  that 
you  would  be  preferred  to  any  other  suitor,  and,  in  short, 
that " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  madam,  for  interrupting  you," 
cried  Lord  Colambre,   colouring  a  good  deal;    "but  you 

76 


THE  ABSENTEE 

must  excuse  me  if  I  say,  that  the  only  authority  on  which 
I  could  believe  this  is  one  from  which  I  am  morally  certain 
I  shall  never  hear  it — from  Miss  Broadhurst  herself." 

"Lord,  child!  if  you  would  only  ask  her  the  question, 
she  would  tell  you  it  is  truth,  I  daresay." 

"But  as  I  have  no  curiosity  on  the  subject,  ma'am " 

"Lord  bless  me!  I  thought  everybody  had  curiosity. 
But  still,  without  curiosity,  I  am  sure  it  would  gratify  you 
when  you  did  hear  it;  and  can't  you  just  put  the  simple 
question?  " 

"Impossible!  " 

"Impossible!— now  that  is  so  very  provoking  when  the 
thing  is  all  but  done.  Well,  take  your  own  time ;  all  I  will 
ask  of  you  then  is,  to  let  things  go  on  as  they  are  going — 
smoothly  and  pleasantly;  and  I'll  not  press  you  farther  on 
the  subject  at  present.  Let  things  go  on  smoothly,  that's 
all  I  ask,  and  say  nothing." 

"I  wish  I  could  oblige  you,  mother;  but  I  cannot  do 
this.  Since  you  tell  me  that  the  world  and  Miss  Broad- 
hurst's  friends  have  already  misunderstood  my  intentions, 
it  becomes  necessary,  in  justice  to  the  young  lady  and  to 
myself,  that  I  should  make  all  further  doubt  impossible. 
I  shall,  therefore,  put  an  end  to  it  at  once,  by  leaving  town 
to-morrow." 

Lady  Clonbrony,  breathless  for  a  moment  with  surprise, 
exclaimed,  "Bless  me !  leave  town  to-morrow  !  Just  at  the 
beginning  of  the  season  !  Impossible ! — I  never  saw  such 
a  precipitate,  rash  young  man.  But  stay  only  a  few  weeks, 
Colambre ;  the  physicians  advise  Buxton  for  my  rheumat- 
ism, and  you  shall  take  us  to  Buxton  early  in  the  season — 
you  cannot  refuse  me  that.  Why,  if  Miss  Broadhurst  was 
a  dragon,  you  could  not  be  in  a  greater  hurry  to  run  away 
from  her.     What  arc  you  afraid  of  ?  " 

"Of  doing  what  is  wrong — the  only  thing,  I  trust,  of 
which  I  shall  ever  be  afraid." 

Lady  Clonbrony  tried  persuasion  and  argument — such 
argument  as  she  could  use — but  all  in  vain — Lord  Colam- 
bre was  firm  in  his  resolution ;  at  last,  she  came  to  tears ; 
and  her  son,  in  much  agitation,  said — 

77 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"I  cannot  bear  this,  mother!  I  would  do  anything  you 
ask,  that  I  could  do  with  honour;  but  this  is  impossible." 

"Why  impossible?  I  will  take  all  blame  upon  myself; 
and  you  are  sure  that  Miss  Broadhurst  does  not  misunder- 
stand you,  and  you  esteem  her,  and  admire  her,  and  all 
that;  and  all  I  ask  is,  that  you'll  go  on  as  you  are,  and  see 
more  of  her ;  and  how  do  you  know  but  you  may  fall  in 
love  with  her,  as  you  call  it,  to-morrow?  " 

"Because,  madam,  since  you  press  me  so  far,  my  affec- 
tions are  engaged  to  another  person.  Do  not  look  so 
dreadfully  shocked,  my  dear  mother — I  have  told  you 
truly,  that  I  think  myself  too  young,  much  too  young,  yet, 
to  marry.  In  the  circumstances  in  which  I  know  my  family 
are,  it  is  probable  that  I  shall  not  for  some  years  be  able 
to  marry  as  I  wish.  You  may  depend  upon  it  that  I  shall 
not  take  any  step,  I  shall  not  even  declare  my  attachment 
to  the  object  of  my  affection,  without  your  knowledge; 
and,  far  from  being  inclined  to  follow  headlong  my  own 
passions — strong  as  they  are — be  assured  that  the  honour 
of  my  family,  your  happiness,  my  mother,  my  father's,  are 
my  first  objects :  I  shall  never  think  of  my  own  till  these 
are  secured." 

Of  the  conclusion  of  this  speech.  Lady  Clonbrony  heard 
only  the  sound  of  the  words ;  from  the  moment  her  son 
had  pronounced  that  his  affections  were  engaged,  she  had 
been  running  over  in  her*  head  every  probable  and  impro- 
bable person  she  could  think  of;  at  last,  suddenly  starting 
up,  she  opened  one  of  the  folding-doors  into  the  next 
apartment,  and  called — 

"Grace  ! — Grace  Nugent ! — put  down  your  pencil,  Grace, 
this  minute,  and  come  here!  " 

Miss  Nugent  obeyed  with  her  usual  alacrity;  and  the 
moment  she  entered  the  room.  Lady  Clonbrony,  fixing  her 
eyes  full  upon  her,  said  — 

"There's  your  cousin  Colambre  tells  me  his  affections  are 
engaged." 

"Yes,  to  Miss  Broadhurst,  no  doubt,"  said  Miss  Nugent, 
smiling,  with  a  simplicity  and  openness  of  countenance 
which  assured  Lady  Clonbrony  that  all  was  safe  in  that 

78 


THE  ABSENTEE 

quarter:  a  suspicion  which  had  darted  into  her  mind  was 
dispelled. 

"No  doubt.  Ay,  do  you  hear  that  no  doubt,  Colambre? 
— Grace,  you  see,  has  no  doubt ;  nobody  has  any  doubt 
but  yourself,  Colambre." 

"And  are  your  affections  engaged,  and  not  to  Miss 
Broadhurst?  "  said  Miss  Nugent,  approaching  Lord  Colam- 
bre. 

"There  now!  you  see  how  you  surprise  and  disappoint 
everybody,  Colambre." 

"I  am  sorry  that  Miss  Nugent  should  be  disappointed," 
said  Lord  Colambre. 

"But  because  I  am  disappointed,  pray  do  not  call  me 
Miss  Nugent,  or  turn  away  from  me,  as  if  you  were  dis- 
pleased." 

' '  It  must,  then,  be  some  Cambridgeshire  lady, '  *  said  Lady 
Clonbrony.  "I  am  sure  I  am  very  sorry  he  ever  went  to  Cam- 
bridge,— Oxford  I  advised:  one  of  the  Miss  Berryls,  I  pre- 
sume, who  have  nothing.  I'll  have  nothing  more  to  do  with 
those  Berryls — there  was  the  reason  of  the  son's  vast  intim- 
acy. Grace,  you  may  give  up  all  thoughts  of  Sir  Arthur." 
"I  have  no  thoughts  to  give  up,  ma'am,"  said  Miss 
Nugent,  smiling.  "Miss  Broadhurst,"  continued  she, 
going  on  eagerly  with  what  she  was  saying  to  Lord  Colam- 
bre— "Miss  Broadhurst  is  my  friend,  a  friend  I  love  and 
admire;  but  you  will  allow  that  I  strictly  kept  my  promise, 
never  to  praise  her  to  you,  till  you  should  begin  to  praise 
her  to  me.  Now  recollect,  last  night,  you  did  praise  her 
to  me,  so  justly,  that  I  thought  you  liked  her,  I  confess; 
so  that  it  is  natural  I  should  feel  a  little  disappointed. 
Now  you  know  the  whole  of  my  mind  ;  I  have  no  intention 
to  encroach  on  your  confidence ;  therefore,  there  is  no  oc- 
casion to  look  so  embarrassed.  I  give  you  my  word,  I 
will  never  speak  to  you  again  upon  the  subject,  "said  she, 
holding  out  her  hand  to  him,  "provided  you  will  never 
again  call  me  Miss  Nugent.  Am  I  not  your  own  cousin 
Grace? — Do  not  be  displeased  with  her." 

"You   are    my    own    dear    cousin    Grace;    and    nothing 
can  be  farther  from  my  mind  than  any  thought  of  being 

79 


THE  ABSENTEE 

displeased  with  her;  especially  just  at  this  moment,  when 
I  am  going  away,  probably  for  a  considerable  time." 

"Away  ! — when? — where?  " 

"To-morrow  morning,  for  Ireland." 

"Ireland  !  of  all  places,"  cried  Lady  Clonbrony.  "What 
upon  earth  puts  it  into  your  head  to  go  to  Ireland?  You 
do  very  well  to  go  out  of  the  way  of  falling  in  love  ridic- 
ulously, since  that  is  the  reason  of  your  going ;  but  what  put 
Ireland  into  your  head,  child?" 

"I  will  not  presume  to  ask  my  mother  what  put  Ireland 
out  of  her  head,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  smiling;  "but  she 
will  recollect  that  it  is  my  native  country." 

"That  was  your  father's  fault,  not  mine,"  said  Lady 
Clonbrony;  "for  I  wished  to  have  been  confined  in  Eng- 
land ;  but  he  would  have  it  to  say  that  his  son  and  heir 
was  born  at  Clonbrony  Castle — and  there  was  a  great  argu- 
ment between  him  and  my  uncle,  and  something  about  the 
Prince  of  Wales  and  Caernarvon  Castle  was  thrown  in,  and 
that  turned  the  scale,  much  against  my  will ;  for  it  was  my 
wish  that  my  son  should  be  an  Englishman  born — like  my- 
self. But,  after  all,  I  don't  see  that  having  the  misfortune 
to  be  born  in  a  country  should  tie  one  to  it  in  any  sort  of 
way ;  and  I  should  have  hoped  your  English  edication, 
Colambre,  would  have  given  you  too  liberal  idears  for  that 
— so  I  redly  don't  see  why  you  should  go  to  Ireland  merely 
because  it's  your  native  country." 

"Not  merely  because  it  is  my  native  country;  but  I  wish 
to  go  thither — I  desire  to  become  acquainted  with  it — be- 
cause it  is  the  country  in  which  my  father's  property  lies, 
and  from  which  we  draw  our  subsistence." 

"Subsistence  !  Lord  bless  me,  what  a  word  !  fitter  for  a 
pauper  than  a  nobleman — subsistence !  Then,  if  you  are 
going  to  look  after  your  father's  property,  I  hope  you  will 
make  the  agents  do  their  duty,  and  send  us  remittances. 
And  pray  how  long  do  you  mean  to  stay?  " 

"Till  I  am  of  age,  madam,  if  you  have  no  objection.  I 
will  spend  the  ensuing  months  in  travelling  in  Ireland  ;  and 
I  will  return  here  by  the  time  I  am  of  age,  unless  you  and 
my  father  should,  before  that  time,  be  in  Ireland." 

80 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"  Not  the  least  chance  of  that,  if  I  can  prevent  it,  I 
promise  you,"  said  Lady  Clonbrony. 

Lord  Colambre  and  Miss  Nugent  sighed. 

"And  I  am  sure  I  shall  take  it  very  unkindly  of  you, 
Colambre,  if  you  go  and  turn  out  a  partisan  for  Ireland, 
after  all,  like  Grace  Nugent." 

"A  partisan!  no; — I  hope  not  a  partisan,  but  a  friend," 
said  Miss  Nugent. 

"Nonsense,  child! — I  hate  to  hear  people,  women  espe- 
cially, and  young  ladies  particularly,  talk  of  being  friends 
to  this  country  or  that  country.  What  can  they  know 
about  countries?  Better  think  of  being  friends  to  them- 
selves, and  friends  to  their  friends." 

"I  was  wrong,"  said  Miss  Nugent,  "to  call  myself  a 
friend  to  Ireland ;  I  meant  to  say,  that  Ireland  had  been  a 
friend  to  me;  that  I  found  Irish  friends,  when  I  had  no 
other;  an  Irish  home,  when  I  had  no  other;  that  my  earli- 
est and  happiest  years,  under  your  kind  care,  had  been 
spent  there ;  and  that  I  can  never  forget  that,  my  dear  aunt 
— I  hope  you  do  not  wish  that  I  should." 

"Heaven  forbid,  my  sweet  Grace!"  said  Lady  Clon- 
brony, touched  by  her  voice  and  manner — "Heaven  forbid ! 
I  don't  wish  you  to  do  or  be  anything  but  what  you  are; 
for  I  am  convinced  there's  nothing  I  could  ask  you  would 
not  do  for  me;  and,  I  can  tell  you,  there's  few  things  you 
could  ask,  love,  I  would  not  do  for  you." 

A  wish  was  instantly  expressed  in  the  eyes  of  her  niece. 

Lady  Clonbrony,  though  not  usually  quick  at  interpret- 
ing the  wishes  of  others,  understood  and  answered,  before 
she  ventured  to  make  her  request  in  words. 

"Ask  anything  but  that,  Grace.  Return  to  Clonbrony, 
while  I  am  able  to  live  in  London  ?  That  I  never  can  or 
will  do  for  you  or  anybody !  "  looking  at  her  son  in  all  the 
pride  of  obstinacy ;  "so  there  is  an  end  of  the  matter.  Go 
you  where  you  please,  Colambre ;  and  I  shall  stay  where  I 
please: — I  suppose,  as  your  mother,  I  have  a  right  to  say 
this  much? " 

Her  son,  with  the  utmost  respect,  assured  her  that  he 
had  no  design  to  infringe  upon  her  undoubted  liberty  of 

6  8i 


THE  ABSENTEE 

judging  for  herself;  that  he  had  never  interfered,  except  so 
far  as  to  tell  her  circumstances  of  her  affairs,  with  which  she 
seemed  to  be  totally  unacquainted,  and  of  which  it  might 
be  dangerous  to  her  to  continue  in  ignorance. 

"Don't  talk  to  me  about  affairs,"  cried  she,  drawing  her 
hand  away  from  her  son.  "Talk  to  my  lord,  or  my  lord's 
agents,  since  you  are  going  to  Ireland,  about  business — I 
know  nothing  about  business ;  but  this  I  know,  I  shall  stay 
in  England,  and  be  in  London,  every  season,  as  long  as  I 
can  afford  it ;  and  when  I  cannot  afford  to  live  here,  I  hope 
I  shall  not  live  anywhere.  That's  my  notion  of  life;  and 
that's  my  determination,  once  for  all;  for,  if  none  of  the 
rest  of  the  Clonbrony  family  have  any,  I  thank  Heaven  I 
have  some  spirit."  Saying  this,  with  her  most  stately 
manner  she  walked  out  of  the  room.  Lord  Colambre  in- 
stantly followed  her;  for,  after  the  resolution  and  the 
promise  he  had  made,  he  did  not  dare  to  trust  himself  at 
this  moment  with  Miss  Nugent. 

There  was  to  be  a  concert  this  night  at  Lady  Clon- 
brony's,  at  which  Mrs.  and  Miss  Broadhurst  were,  of 
course,  expected.  That  they  might  not  be  quite  unpre- 
pared for  the  event  of  her  son's  going  to  Ireland,  Lady 
Clonbrony  wrote  a  note  to  Mrs.  Broadhurst,  begging  her 
to  come  half  an  hour  earlier  than  the  time  mentioned  in 
the  cards,  "that  she  might  talk  over  something  particular 
that  had  just  occurred." 

What  passed  at  this  cabinet -council,  as  it  seems  to  have 
had  no  immediate  influence  on  affairs,  we  need  not  record. 
Suffice  it  to  observe,  that  a  great  deal  was  said,  and  no- 
thing done.  Miss  Broadhurst,  however,  was  not  a  young 
lady  who  could  be  easily  deceived,  even  where  her  pas- 
sions were  concerned.  The  moment  her  mother  told  her 
of  Lord  Colambre's  intended  departure,  she  saw  the  whole 
truth.  She  had  a  strong  mind — was  capable  of  drawing 
aside,  at  once,  the  curtain  of  self-delusion,  and  looking 
steadily  at  the  skeleton  of  truth — she  had  a  generous,  per- 
haps because  a  strong  mind;  for,  surrounded,  as  she  had 
been  from  her  childhood,  by  every  means  of  self-indulgence 
which  wealth  and  flattery  could  bestow,  she  had  discovered 

82 


THE  ABSENTEE 

early,  what  few  persons  in  her  situation  discover  till  late  in 
life,  that  selfish  gratifications  may  render  us  incapable  of 
other  happiness,  but  can  never,  of  themselves,  make  us 
happy.  Despising  flatterers,  she  had  determined  to  make 
herself  friends- — to  make  them  in  the  only  possible  way — 
by  deserving  them.  Her  father  made  his  immense  fortune 
by  the  power  and  habit  of  constant,  bold,  and  just  calcula- 
tion. The  power  and  habit  which  she  had  learned  from 
him  she  applied  on  a  far  larger  scale;  with  him,  it  was 
confined  to  speculations  for  the  acquisition  of  money; 
with  her,  it  extended  to  the  attainment  of  happiness.  He 
was  calculating  and  mercenary :  she  was  estimative  and 
generous. 

Miss  Nugent  was  dressing  for  the  concert,  or,  rather,  was 
sitting  half-dressed  before  her  glass,  reflecting,  when  Miss 
Broadhurst  came  into  her  room.  Miss  Nugent  immedi- 
ately sent  her  maid  out  of  the  room. 

"Grace,"  said  Miss  Broadhurst,  looking  at  Grace  with 
an  air  of  open,  deliberate  composure,  "you  and  I  are 
thinking  of  the  same  thing — of  the  same  person." 

"Yes,  of  Lord  Colambre,"  said  Miss  Nugent,  ingenu- 
ously and  sorrowfully. 

"Then  I  can  put  your  mind  at  ease,  at  once,  my  dear 
friend,  by  assuring  you  that  I  shall  think  of  him  no  more. 
That  I  have  thought  of  him,  I  do  not  deny — I  have 
thought,  that  if,  notwithstanding  the  difference  in  our  ages, 
and  other  differences,  he  had  preferred  me,  I  should  have 
preferred  him  to  any  person  who  has  ever  yet  addressed 
me.  On  our  first  acquaintance,  I  clearly  saw  that  he  was 
not  disposed  to  pay  court  to  my  fortune ;  and  I  had  also 
then  coolness  of  judgment  sufficient  to  perceive  that  it  was 
not  probable  he  should  fall  in  love  with  my  person.  But 
I  was  too  proud  in  my  humility,  too  strong  in  my  honesty, 
too  brave,  too  ignorant ;  in  short,  I  knew  nothing  of  the 
matter.  We  are  all  of  us,  more  or  less,  subject  to  the  de- 
lusions of  vanity,   or  hope,  or  love 1 — even   I ! — who 

thought  myself  so  clear-sighted,  did  not  know  how,  with 
one  flutter  of  his  wings,  Cupid  can  set  the  whole  atmo- 
sphere in  motion;   change  the  proportions,  size,  colour, 

83 


THE  ABSENTEE 

value,  of  every  object ;  lead  us  into  a  viirage,  and  leave  us 
in  a  dismal  desert." 

"My  dearest  friend!"  said  Miss  Nugent,  in  a  tone  of 
true  sympathy. 

"But  none  but  a  coward  or  a  fool  would  sit  down  in  the 
desert  and  weep,  instead  of  trying  to  make  his  way  back 
before  the  storm  rises,  obliterates  the  track,  and  overwhelms 
everything.  Poetry  apart,  my  dear  Grace,  you  may  be 
assured  that  I  shall  think  no  more  of  Lord  Colambre." 

"I  believe  you  are  right.  But  I  am  sorry,  very  sorry,  it 
must  be  so." 

"Oh,  spare  me  your  sorrow!  " 

"My  sorrow  is  for  Lord  Colambre,"  said  Miss  Nugent. 
"Where  will  he  find  such  a  wife? — Not  in  Miss  Berryl,  I 
am  sure — pretty  as  she  is ;  a  mere  fine  lady  !  Is  it  possible 
that  Lord  Colambre — Lord  Colambre  ! — should  prefer  such 
a  girl — Lord  Colambre!  " 

Miss  Broadhurst  looked  at  her  friend  as  she  spoke,  and 
saw  truth  in  her  eyes ;  saw  that  she  had  no  suspicion  that 
she  was  herself  the  person  beloved. 

"Tell  me,  Grace,  are  you  sorry  that  Lord  Colambre  is 
going  away?  " 

"No,  I  am  glad.  I  was  sorry  when  I  first  heard  it;  but 
now  I  am  glad,  very  glad;  it  may  save  him  from  a  mar- 
riage unworthy  of  him,  restore  him  to  himself,  and  reserve 

him  for the  only  woman  I  ever  saw  who  is  suited  to 

him,  who  is  equal  to  him,  who  would  value  and  love  him, 
as  he  deserves  to  be  valued  and  loved." 

"Stop,  my  dear;  if  you  mean  me,  I  am  not,  and  I  never 
can  be,  that  woman.  Therefore,  as  you  are  my  friend,  and 
wish  my  happiness,  as  I  sincerely  believe  you  do,  never,  I 
conjure  you,  present  such  an  idea  before  my  mind  again — 
it  is  out  of  my  mind,  I  hope,  for  ever.  It  is  important  to 
me  that  you  should  know  and  believe  this.  At  least  I 
will  preserve  my  friends.  Now  let  this  subject  never  be 
mentioned  or  alluded  to  again  between  us,  my  dear.  We 
have  subjects  enough  of  conversation ;  we  need  not  have 
recourse  to  pernicious  sentimental  gossipings.  There  is  a 
great  difference  between  wanting  a  confidante,  and  treating 

84 


THE  ABSENTEE 

a  friend  with  confidence.  My  confidence  you  possess ;  all 
that  ought,  all  that  is  to  be  known  of  my  mind,  you  know, 

and Now  I  will  leave  you   in  peace  to  dress  for  the 

concert." 

"Oh,  don't  go!  you  don't  interrupt  me.  I  shall  be 
dressed  in  a  few  minutes;  stay  with  me,  and  you  may  be 
assured,  that  neither  now,  nor  at  any  other  time,  shall  I 
ever  speak  to  you  on  the  subject  you  desire  me  to  avoid. 
I  entirely  agree  with  you  about  confidantes  and  sentimen- 
tal gossipings.     I  love  you  for  not  loving  them." 

A  thundering  knock  at  the  door  announced  the  arrival 
of  company. 

"Think  no  more  of  love,  but  as  much  as  you  please 
of  friendship — dress  yourself  as  fast  as  you  can,"  said 
Miss  Broadhurst.  "Dress,  dress  is  the  order  of  the 
day." 

"Order  of  the  day  and  order  of  the  night,  and  all  for 
people  I  don't  care  for  in  the  least,"  said  Grace.  "So  life 
passes!  " 

"Dear  me.  Miss  Nugent,"  cried  Petito,  Lady  Clon- 
brony's  woman,  coming  in  with  a  face  of  alarm,  "not 
dressed  yet !  My  lady  is  gone  down,  and  Mrs.  Broadhurst 
and  my  Lady  Pococke's  come,  and  the  Honourable  Mrs. 
Trembleham ;  and  signor,  the  Italian  singing  gentleman, 
has  been  walking  up  and  down  the  apartments  there  by 
himself,  disconsolate,  this  half-hour,  and  I  wondering  all 
the  time  nobody  rang  for  me — but  my  lady  dressed.  Lord 
knows  how!  without  anybody.  Oh,  merciful!  Miss  Nu- 
gent, if  you  could  stand  still  for  one  single  particle  of  a 
second.  So  then  I  thought  of  stepping  in  to  Miss  Nugent ; 
for  the  young  ladies  are  talking  so  fast,  says  I  to  myself,  at 
the  door,  they  will  never  know  how  time  goes,  unless  I 
give  'em  a  hint.  But  now  my  lady  is  below,  there's  no 
need,  to  be  sure,  to  be  nervous,  so  we  may  take  the  thing 
quietly,  without  being  in  a  flustrum.  Dear  ladies,  is  not 
this  now  a  very  sudden  motion  of  our  young  lord's  for 
Ireland?  —  Lud  a  mercy!  Miss  Nugent,  I'm  sure  your 
motions  is  sudden  enough ;  and  your  dress  behind  is  all, 
I'm  sure,  I  can't  tell  how." — "Oh,  never  mind,"  said  the 

85 


THE  ABSENTEE 

young  lady,  escaping  from  her;  "it  will  do  very  well, 
thank  you,  Petito." 

"It  will  do  very  well,  never  mind,"  repeated  Petito 
muttering  to  herself,  as  she  looked  after  the  ladies,  whilst 
they  ran  downstairs.  "I  can't  abide  to  dress  any  young 
lady  who  says  never  mind,  and  it  will  do  very  well.  That, 
and  her  never  talking  to  one  confi<:/^^;^tially,  or  trusting  one 
with  the  least  bit  of  her  secrets,  is  the  thing  I  can't  put  up 
with  from  Miss  Nugent;  and  Miss  Broadhurst  holding  the 
pins  to  me,  as  much  as  to  say,  Do  your  business,  Petito, 
and  don't  talk. — Now,  that's  so  impertinent,  as  if  one 
wasn't  the  same  flesh  and  blood,  and  had  not  as  good  a 
right  to  talk  of  everything,  and  hear  of  everything,  as 
themselves.  And  Mrs.  Broadhurst,  too,  cabinet-councilling 
with  my  lady,  and  pursing  up  her  city  mouth  when  I  come 
in,  and  turning  off  the  discourse  to  snuff,  forsooth;  as  if  I 
was  an  ignoramus,  to  think  they  closeted  themselves  to 
talk  of  snuff.  Now,  I  think  a  lady  of  quality's  woman  has 
as  good  a  right  to  be  trusted  with  her  lady's  secrets  as  with 
her  jewels ;  and  if  my  Lady  Clonbrony  was  a  real  lady  of 
quality,  she'd  know  that,  and  consider  the  one  as  much 
my  paraphernalia  as  the  other.  So  I  shall  tell  my  lady 
to-night,  as  I  always  do  when  she  vexes  me,  that  I  never 
lived  in  an  Irish  family  before,  and  don't  know  the  ways 
of  it — then  she'll  tell  me  she  was  born  in  Hoxfordshire — 
then  I  shall  say,  with  my  saucy  look,  'Oh,  was  you,  my 
lady?— I  always  forget  that  you  was  an  Englishwoman': 
then  maybe  she'll  say,  'Forget!  —  you  forget  yourself 
strangely,  Petito.'  Then  I  shall  say,  with  a  great  deal  of 
dignity,  'If  your  ladyship  thinks  so,  my  lady,  I'd  better 
go.'  And  I'd  desire  no  better  than  that  she  would  take 
me  at  my  word ;  for  my  Lady  Dashfort's  is  a  much  better 
place,  I'm  told,  and  she's  dying  to  have  me,  I  know." 

And  having  formed  this  resolution,  Petito  concluded  her 
apparently  interminable  soliloquy,  and  went  with  my  lord's 
gentleman  into  the  antechamber,  to  hear  the  concert,  and 
give  her  judgment  on  everything ;  as  she  peeped  in  through 
the  vista  of  heads  into  the  Apollo  saloon^ — for  to-night  the 
Alhambra  was  transformed  into  the  Apollo  saloon — she 

86 


THE  ABSENTEE 

saw  that  whilst  the  company,  rank  behind  rank,  in  close 
semicircles,  had  crowded  round  the  performers  to  hear  a 
favourite  singer,  Miss  Broadhurst  and  Lord  Colambre  were 
standing  in  the  outer  semicircle,  talking  to  one  another 
earnestly.  Now  would  Petito  have  given  up  her  reversion- 
ary chance  of  the  three  nearly  new  gowns  she  expected 
from  Lady  Clonbrony,  in  case  she  stayed ;  or,  in  case  she 
went,  the  reversionary  chance  of  any  dress  of  Lady  Dash- 
fort's  except  her  scarlet  velvet,  merely  to  hear  what  Miss 
Broadhurst  and  Lord  Colambre  were  saying.  Alas !  she 
could  only  see  their  lips  move;  and  of  what  they  were 
talking,  whether  of  music  or  love,  and  whether  the  match 
was  to  be  on  or  off,  she  could  only  conjecture.  But  the 
diplomatic  style  having  now  descended  to  waiting-maids, 
Mrs.  Petito  talked  to  her  friends  in  the  antechamber  with 
as  mysterious  and  consequential  an  air  and  tone,  as  a  cJiargd 
d'affaires,  or  as  the  lady  of  a  charge  d'affaires,  could  have 
assumed.  She  spoke  of  her  private  belief ;  of  the  impres- 
sion left  upon  her  mind ;  and  her  confidantial  reasons  for 
thinking  as  she  did;  of  her  "having  had  it  from  th.Q  fount- 
ain's head";  and  of  "her  fear  of  any  committal  of  her 
authorities." 

Notwithstanding  all  these  authorities,  Lord  Colambre 
left  London  next  day,  and  pursued  his  way  to  Ireland, 
determined  that  he  would  see  and  judge  of  that  country 
for  himself,  and  decide  whether  his  mother's  dislike  to 
residing  there  was  founded  on  caprice  or  reasonable  causes. 

In  the  meantime,  it  was  reported  in  London  that  his 
lordship  was  gone  to  Ireland  to  make  out  the  title  to  some 
estate,  which  would  be  necessary  for  his  marriage  settle- 
ment with  the  great  heiress,  Miss  Broadhurst.  Whether 
Mrs.  Petito  or  Sir  Terence  O'Fay  had  the  greater  share  in 
raising  and  spreading  this  report,  it  would  be  difficult  to 
determine ;  but  it  is  certain,  however  or  by  whomsoever 
raised,  it  was  most  useful  to  Lord  Clonbrony,  by  keeping 
his  creditors  quiet. 


87 


THE  ABSENTEE 
CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  tide  did  not  permit  the  packet  to  reach  the 
Pigeon-house,  and  the  impatient  Lord  Colambre 
stepped  into  a  boat,  and  was  rowed  across  the  bay 
of  Dublin.  It  was  a  fine  summer  morning.  The  sun 
shone  bright  on  the  Wicklow  mountains.  He  admired,  he 
exulted  in  the  beauty  of  the  prospect ;  and  all  the  early 
associations  of  his  childhood,  and  the  patriotic  hopes  of  his 
riper  years,  swelled  his  heart  as  he  approached  the  shores 
of  his  native  land.  But  scarcely  had  he  touched  his  mother 
earth,  when  the  whole  course  of  his  ideas  was  changed ; 
and  if  his  heart  swelled,  it  swelled  no  more  with  pleasur- 
able sensations,  for  instantly  he  found  himself  surrounded 
and  attacked  by  a  swarm  of  beggars  and  harpies,  with 
strange  figures  and  stranger  tones:  some  craving  his  char- 
ity, some  snatching  away  his  luggage,  and  at  the  same  time 
bidding  him  "never  trouble  himself,"  and  "never  fear." 
A  scramble  in  the  boat  and  on  shore  for  bags  and  parcels 
began,  and  an  amphibious  fight  betwixt  men,  who  had 
one  foot  on  sea  and  one  on  land,  was  seen ;  and  long  and 
loud  the  battle  of  trunks  and  portmanteaus  raged !  The 
vanquished  departed,  clinching  their  empty  hands  at  their 
opponents,  and  swearing  inextinguishable  hatred;  while 
the  smiling  victors  stood  at  ease,  each  grasping  his  booty 
— bag,  basket,  parcel,  or  portmanteau  :  "And,  your  honour, 
where  iv ill  these  go? — Where  zvill  we  carry  'em  all  to,  for 
your  honour?  "  was  now  the  question.  Without  waiting 
for  an  answer,  most  of  the  goods  were  carried  at  the  dis- 
cretion of  the  porters  to  the  custom-house,  where,  to  his 
lordship's  astonishment,  after  this  scene  of  confusion,  he 
found  that  he  had  lost  nothing  but  his  patience;  all  his 
goods  were  safe,  and  a  few  tinpemiies  made  his  officious 
porters  happy  men  and  boys ;  blessings  were  showered 
upon  his  honour,  and  he  was  left  in  peace  at  an  excellent 
hotel  in  Street,  Dublin.  He  rested,  refreshed  him- 
self, recovered  his  good-humour,  and  walked  into  the 
coffee-house,  where  he  found  several  officers  —  English, 
Irish,  and  Scotch.     One  English  officer,  a  very  gentleman- 

88 


THE  ABSENTEE 

like,  sensible-looking  man,  of  middle  age,  was  sitting  reading 
a  little  pamphlet,  when  Lord  Colambre  entered ;  he  looked 
up  from  time  to  time,  and  in  a  few  minutes  rose  and  joined 
the  conversation ;  it  turned  upon  the  beauties  and  defects 
of  the  city  of  Dublin.  Sir  James  Brooke,  for  that  was  the 
name  of  the  gentleman,  showed  one  of  his  brother  officers 
the  book  which  he  had  been  reading,  observing  that,  in  his 
opinion,  it  contained  one  of  the  best  views  of  Dublin  which 
he  had  ever  seen,  evidently  drawn  by  the  hand  of  a  master, 
though  in  a  slight,  playful,  and  ironical  style:  it  was  "An 
intercepted  Letter  frojn  China.'"  The  conversation  ex- 
tended from  Dublin  to  various  parts  of  Ireland,  with  all 
which  Sir  James  Brooke  showed  that  he  was  well  ac- 
quainted. Observing  that  this  conversation  was  particu- 
larly interesting  to  Lord  Colambre,  and  quickly  perceiving 
that  he  was  speaking  to  one  not  ignorant  of  books.  Sir 
James  spoke  of  different  representations  and  misrepresent- 
ations of  Ireland.  In  answer  to  Lord  Colambre's  inquiries, 
he  named  the  works  which  had  afforded  him  most  satisfac- 
tion ;  and  with  discriminative,  not  superficial  celerity, 
touched  on  all  ancient  and  modern  authors,  from  Spenser 
and  Davies  to  Young  and  Beaufort.  Lord  Colambre  be- 
came anxious  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  a  gentleman 
who  appeared  so  able  and  willing  to  afford  him  information. 
Sir  James  Brooke,  on  his  part,  was  flattered  by  this  eager- 
ness of  attention,  and  pleased  by  our  hero's  manners  and 
conversation ;  so  that,  to  their  mutual  satisfaction,  they 
spent  much  of  their  time  together  whilst  they  were  at  this 
hotel ;  and,  meeting  frequently  in  society  in  Dublin,  their 
acquaintance  every  day  increased  and  grew  into  intimacy 
— an  intimacy  which  was  highly  advantageous  to  Lord 
Colambre's  views  of  obtaining  a  just  idea  of  the  state  of 
manners  in  Ireland.  Sir  James  Brooke  had  at  different 
periods  been  quartered  in  various  parts  of  the  country — 
had  resided  long  enough  in  each  to  become  familiar  with 
the  people,  and  had  varied  his  residence  sufificiently  to 
form  comparisons  between  different  counties,  their  habits, 
and  characteristics.  Hence  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  direct 
the  attention  of  our  young  observer  at  once  to  the  points 

89 


THE  ABSENTEE 

most  worthy  of  his  examination,  and  to  save  him  from  the 
common  error  of  travellers — the  deducing  general  conclu- 
sions from  a  few  particular  cases,  or  arguing  from  excep- 
tions as  if  they  were  rules.  Lord  Colambre,  from  his 
family  connexions,  had  of  course  immediate  introduction 
into  the  best  society  in  Dublin,  or  rather  into  all  the  good 
society  of  Dublin.  In  Dublin  there  is  positively  good 
company,  and  positively  bad ;  but  not,  as  in  London, 
many  degrees  of  comparison :  not  innumerable  luminaries 
of  the  polite  world,  moving  in  different  orbits  of  fashion, 
but  all  the  bright  planets  of  note  and  name  move  and  re- 
volve in  the  same  narrow  limits.  Lord  Colambre  did  not 
find  that  either  his  father's  or  his  mother's  representations 
of  society  in  Dublin  resembled  the  reality,  which  he  now 
beheld.  Lady  Clonbrony  had,  in  terms  of  detestation, 
described  Dublin  such  as  it  appeared  to  her  soon  after  the 
Union ;  Lord  Clonbrony  had  painted  it  with  convivial 
enthusiasm,  such  as  he  saw  it  long  and  long  before  the 
Union,  wh.Qn  first  he  drank  claret  at  the  fashionable  clubs. 
This  picture,  unchanged  in  his  memory,  and  unchangeable 
by  his  imagination,  had  remained,  and  ever  would  remain, 
the  same.  The  hospitality  of  which  the  father  boasted, 
the  son  found  in  all  its  warmth,  but  meliorated  and  refined  ; 
less  convivial,  more  social ;  the  fashion  of  hospitality  had 
improved.  To  make  the  stranger  eat  or  drink  to  excess, 
to  set  before  him  old  wine  and  old  plate,  was  no  longer  the 
sum  of  good  breeding.  The  guest  now  escaped  the  pomp 
of  grand  entertainments;  was  allowed  to  enjoy  ease  and 
conversation,  and  to  taste  some  of  that  feast  of  reason  and 
that  flow  of  soul  so  often  talked  of,  and  so  seldom  enjoyed. 
Lord  Colambre  found  a  spirit  of  improvement,  a  desire  for 
knowledge,  and  a  taste  for  science  and  literature,  in  most 
companies,  particularly  among  gentlemen  belonging  to  the 
Irish  bar;  nor  did  he  in  Dublin  society  see  any  of  that  con- 
fusion of  ranks  or  predominance  of  vulgarity  of  which  his 
mother  had  complained.  Lady  Clonbrony  had  assured 
him  that,  the  last  time  she  had  been  at  the  drawing-room 
at  the  Castle,  a  lady,  whom  she  afterwards  found  to  be  a 
grocer's  wife,  had  turned  angrily  when  her  ladyship  had 

90 


THE  ABSENTEE 

accidentally  trodden  on  her  train,  and  had  exclaimed  with 
a  strong  brogue,  "I'll  thank  you,  ma'am,  for  the  rest  of 
my  tail," 

Sir  James  Brooke,  to  whom  Lord  Colambre,  without 
giving  up  Jus  antJioriiy,  mentioned  the  fact,  declared  that 
he  had  no  doubt  the  thing  had  happened  precisely  as  it 
was  stated ;  but  that  this  was  one  of  the  extraordinary 
cases  which  ought  not  to  pass  into  a  general  rule — that  it 
was  a  slight  instance  of  that  influence  of  temporary  causes, 
from  which  no  conclusions,  as  to  national  manners,  should 
be  drawn. 

"I  happened,"  continued  Sir  James,  "to  be  quartered  in 
Dublin  soon  after  the  Union  took  place;  and  I  remember 
the  great  but  transient  change  that  appeared.  From  the 
removal  of  both  Houses  of  Parliament,  most  of  the  nobil- 
ity, and  many  of  the  principal  families  among  the  Irish 
commoners,  either  hurried  in  high  hopes  to  London,  or 
retired  disgusted  and  in  despair  to  their  houses  in  the 
country.  Immediately,  in  Dublin,  commerce  rose  into  the 
vacated  seats  of  rank ;  wealth  rose  into  the  place  of  birth. 
New  faces  and  new  equipages  appeared ;  people,  who  had 
never  been  heard  of  before,  started  into  notice,  pushed 
themselves  forward,  not  scrupling  to  elbow  their  way  even 
at  the  Castle ;  and  they  were  presented  to  my  lord-lieuten- 
ant and  to  my  lady-lieutenant ;  for  their  excellencies,  for 
the  time  being,  might  have  played  their  vice-regal  parts  to 
empty  benches,  had  they  not  admitted  such  persons  for 
the  moment  to  fill  their  court.  Those  of  former  times,  of 
hereditary  pretensions  and  high-bred  minds  and  manners, 
were  scandalised  at  all  this;  and  they  complained,  with 
justice,  that  the  whole  tone  of  society  was  altered ;  that  the 
decorum,  elegance,  polish,  and  charm  of  society  was  gone ; 
and  I  among  the  rest"  (said  Sir  James)  "felt  and  deplored 
their  change.  But,  now  it  is  all  over,  we  may  acknowledge 
that,  perhaps,  even  those  things  which  w^e  felt  most  dis- 
agreeable at  the  time  were  productive  of  eventual  benefit. 

"Formerly,  a  few  families  had  set  the  fashion.  From 
time  immemorial  everything  had,  in  Dublin,  been  sub- 
mitted to  their   hereditary   authority ;    and   conversation, 

91 


THE  ABSENTEE 

though  it  had  been  rendered  polite  by  their  example,  was, 
at  the  same  time,  limited  within  narrow  bounds.  Young 
people,  educated  upon  a  more  enlarged  plan,  in  time  grew 
up;  and,  no  authority  or  fashion  forbidding  it,  necessarily 
rose  to  their  just  place,  and  enjoyed  their  due  influence  in 
society.  The  want  of  manners,  joined  to  the  want  of 
knowledge  in  the  new  set,  created  universal  disgust :  they 
were  compelled,  some  by  ridicule,  some  by  bankruptcies, 
to  fall  back  into  their  former  places,  from  which  they  could 
never  more  emerge.  In  the  meantime,  some  of  the  Irish 
nobility  and  gentry  who  had  been  living  at  an  unusual  ex- 
pense in  London — an  expense  beyond  their  incomes — were 
glad  to  return  home  to  refit ;  and  they  brought  with  them 
a  new  stock  of  ideas,  and  some  taste  for  science  and  liter- 
ature, which,  within  these  latter  years,  have  become  fash- 
ionable, indeed  indispensable,  in  London.  That  part  of 
the  Irish  aristocracy,  who,  immediately  upon  the  first  in- 
cursions of  the  vulgarians,  had  fled  in  despair  to  their  fast- 
nesses in  the  country,  hearing  of  the  improvements  which 
had  gradually  taken  place  in  society,  and  assured  of  the 
final  expulsion  of  the  barbarians,  ventured  from  their  re- 
treats, and  returned  to  their  posts  in  town.  So  that  now," 
concluded  Sir  James,  "you  find  a  society  in  Dublin  com- 
posed of  a  most  agreeable  and  salutary  mixture  of  birth 
and  education,  gentility  and  knowledge,  manner  and  mat- 
ter; and  you  see  pervading  the  whole  new  life  and  energy, 
new  talent,  new  ambition,  a  desire  and  a  determination  to 
improve  and  be  improved — a  perception  that  higher  dis- 
tinction can  now  be  obtained  in  almost  all  company,  by 
genius  and  merit,  than  by  airs  and  dress.  ...  So 
much  for  the  higher  order.  Now,  among  the  class  of 
tradesmen  and  shopkeepers,  you  may  amuse  yourself,  my 
lord,  with  marking  the  difference  between  them  and  persons 
of  the  same  rank  in  London." 

Lord  Colambre  had  several  commissions  to  execute  for 
his  English  friends,  and  he  made  it  his  amusement  in  every 
shop  to  observe  the  manners  and  habits  of  the  people.  He 
remarked  that  there  are  in  Dublin  two  classes  of  trades- 
people :  one,  who  go  into  business  with  intent  to  make  it 

92 


THE  ABSENTEE 

their  occupation  for  life,  and  as  a  slow  but  sure  means  of 
providing  for  themselves  and  their  families ;  another  class, 
who  take  up  trade  merely  as  a  temporary  resource,  to 
which  they  condescend  for  a  few  years,  trusting  that  they 
shall,  in  that  time,  make  a  fortune,  retire,  and  commence 
or  recommence  gentlemen.  The  Irish  regular  men  of  busi- 
ness are  like  all  other  men  of  business— punctual,  frugal, 
careful,  and  so  forth;  with  the  addition  of  more  intelli- 
gence, invention,  and  enterprise  than  are  usually  found  in 
Englishmen  of  the  same  rank.  But  the  Dublin  tradesmen 
pro  tempore  are  a  class  by  themselves ;  they  begin  without 
capital,  buy  stock  upon  credit  in  hopes  of  making  large 
profits,  and,  in  the  same  hopes,  sell  upon  credit.  Now,  if 
the  credit  they  can  obtain  is  longer  than  that  which  they 
are  forced  to  give,  they  go  on  and  prosper;  if  not,  they 
break,  turn  bankrupts,  and  sometimes,  as  bankrupts,  thrive. 
By  such  men,  of  course,  every  short  cut  to  fortune  is  fol- 
lowed; whilst  every  habit,  which  requires  time  to  prove  its 
advantage,  is  disregarded  ;  nor  with  such  views  can  a  char- 
acter {ox punctuality  have  its  just  value.  In  the  head  of  a 
man  who  intends  to  be  a  tradesman  to-day,  and  a  gentleman 
to-morrow,  the  ideas  of  the  honesty  and  the  duties  of  a 
tradesman,  and  of  the  honour  and  the  accomplishments  of 
a  gentleman,  are  oddly  jumbled  together,  and  the  charac- 
teristics of  both  are  lost  in  the  compound. 

He  will  oblige  you,  but  he  will  not  obey  you ;  he  will  do 
you  a  favour,  but  he  will  not  do  you  justice  ;  he  will  do 
anytJiing  to  serve  you,  but  the  particular  thing  you  order  he 
neglects ;  he  asks  your  pardon,  for  he  would  not,  for  all 
the  goods  in  his  warehouse,  disoblige  you ;  not  for  the  sake 
of  your  custom,  but  he  has  a  particular  regard  for  your 
family.  Economy,  in  the  eyes  of  such  a  tradesman,  is,  if 
not  a  mean  vice,  at  least  a  shabby  virtue,  which  he  is  too 
polite  to  suspect  his  customers  of,  and  particularly  proud 
to  prove  himself  superior  to.  Many  London  tradesmen, 
after  making  their  thousands  and  their  tens  of  thousands, 
feel  pride  in  still  continuing  to  live  like  plain  men  of  busi- 
ness ;  but  from  the  moment  a  Dublin  tradesman  of  this 
style  has  made  a  few  hundreds,  he  sets  up  his  gig,  and  then 

93 


THE  ABSENTEE 

his  head  is  in  his  carriage,  and  not  in  his  business ;  and 
when  he  has  made  a  few  thousands,  he  buys  or  builds  a 
country-house  —  and  then,  and  thenceforward,  his  head, 
heart,  and  soul  are  in  his  country-house,  and  only  his  body 
in  the  shop  with  his  customers. 

Whilst  he  is  making  money,  his  wife,  or  rather  his  lady, 
is  spending  twice  as  much  out  of  town  as  he  makes  in  it. 
At  the  word  country-house,  let  no  one  figure  to  himself  a 
snug  little  box,  like  that  in  which  a  tvarvi  London  citizen, 
after  long  years  of  toil,  indulges  himself,  one  day  out  of 
seven,  in  repose — enjoying  from  his  gazebo  the  smell  of  the 
dust,  and  the  view  of  passing  coaches  on  the  London  road. 
No  :  these  Hibernian  villas  are  on  a  much  more  magnificent 
scale;  some  of  them  formerly  belonged  to  Irish  members 
of  Parliament,  who  are  at  a  distance  from  their  country- 
seats.  After  the  Union  these  were  bought  by  citizens  and 
tradesmen,  who  spoiled,  by  the  mixture  of  their  own  fancies, 
what  had  originally  been  designed  by  men  of  good  taste. 

Some  time  after  Lord  Colambre's  arrival  in  Dublin,  he  had 
an  opportunity  of  seeing  one  of  these  villas,  which  belonged 
to  Mrs.  Raffarty,  a  grocer's  lady,  and  sister  to  one  of  Lord 
Clonbrony's  agents,  Mr.  Nicholas  Garraghty.  Lord  Co- 
lambre  was  surprised  to  find  that  his  father's  agent  resided 
in  Dublin :  he  had  been  used  to  see  agents,  or  stewards,  as 
they  are  called  in  England,  live  in  the  country,  and  usually 
on  the  estate  of  which  they  have  the  management.  Mr. 
Nicholas  Garraghty,  however,  had  a  handsome  house  in  a 
fashionable  part  of  Dublin,  Lord  Colambre  called  several 
times  to  see  him,  but  he  was  out  of  town,  receiving  rents 
for  some  other  gentlemen,  as  he  was  agent  for  more  than 
one  property. 

Though  our  hero  had  not  the  honour  of  seeing  Mr.  Gar- 
raghty, he  had  the  pleasure  of  finding  Mrs.  Raffarty  one 
day  at  her  brother's  house.  Just  as  his  lordship  came  to 
the  door,  she  was  going,  on  her  jaunting-car,  to  her  villa, 
called  Tusculum,  situate  near  Bray.  She  spoke  much  of 
the  beauties  of  the  vicinity  of  Dublin;  found  his  lordship 
was  going  with  Sir  James  Brooke  and  a  party  of  gentlemen 
to  see  the  county  of  Wicklow ;  and  his  lordship  and  party 

94 


THE  ABSENTEE 

were  entreated  to  do  her  the  honour  of  taking  in  his  way  a 
Httle  collation  at  Tusculum. 

Our  hero  was  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  more 
of  a  species  of  fine  lady  with  which  he  was  unacquainted. 

The  invitation  was  verbally  made,  and  verbally  accepted ; 
but  the  lady  afterwards  thought  it  necessary  to  send  a 
written  invitation  in  due  form,  and  the  note  she  sent 
directed  to  the  most  right  Jionourable  the  Lord  Viscount 
Colambre.  On  opening  it  he  perceived  that  it  could  not 
have  been  intended  for  him.     It  ran  as  follows : 

My  dear  Juliana  O'Leary, 

I  have  got  a  promise  from  Colambre,  that  he  will  be  with  us 
at  Tusculum  on  Friday  the  20th,  in  his  way  from  the  county  of 
Wicklow,  for  the  collation  I  mentioned;  and  expect  a  large 
party  of  officers;  so  pray  come  early,  with  your  house,  or  as 
many  as  the  jaunting-car  can  bring.     And  pray,  my  dear,  be 

elega?it.     You  need  not  let  it  transpire  to  Mrs.  O'G ;  but 

make  my  apologies  to  Miss  O'G ,  if  she  says  anything,  and 

tell  her  I'm  quite  concerned  I  can't  ask  her  for  that  day;  be- 
cause, tell  her,  I'm  so  crowded,  and  am  to  have  none  that  day 
but  real  quality. — Yours  ever  and  ever, 

Anastasia  Raffarty. 

J^.S. — And  I  hope  to  make  the  gentlemen  stop  the  night  with 
me;  so  will  not  have  beds.     Excuse  haste,  and  complimentsj  etc. 

TuscuLU]\i,  Sunday  15. 

After  a  charming  tour  in  the  county  of  Wicklow,  where 
the  beauty  of  the  natural  scenery,  and  the  taste  with  which 
those  natural  beauties  had  been  cultivated,  far  surpassed 
the  sanguine  expectations  Lord  Colambre  had  formed,  his 
lordship  and  his  companions  arrived  at  Tusculum,  where 
he  found  Mrs.  Raffarty,  and  Miss  Juliana  O'Leary,  vQvy 
elegant,  with  a  large  party  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of 
Bray,  assembled  in  a  drawing-room,  fine  with  bad  pictures 
and  gaudy  gilding;  the  windows  were  all  shut,  and  the 
company  were  playing  cards  with  all  their  might.  This 
was  the  fashion  of  the  neighbourhood.  In  compliment  to 
Lord  Colambre  and  the  officers,  the  ladies  left  the  card- 
tables;   and   Mrs.    Raffarty,    observing   that   his   lordship 

95 


THE  ABSENTEE 

seemed  partial  to  walking,  took  him  out,  as  she  said,  "to 
do  the  honours  of  nature  and  art." 

His  lordship  was  much  amused  by  the  mixture,  which 
was  now  exhibited  to  him,  of  taste  and  incongruity,  in- 
genuity and  absurdity,  genius  and  blunder;  by  the  contrast 
between  the  finery  and  vulgarity,  the  affectation  and  ignor- 
ance of  the  lady  of  the  villa.  We  should  be  obliged  to  stop 
too  long  at  Tusculum  were  we  to  attempt  to  detail  all  the 
odd  circumstances  of  this  visit;  but  we  may  record  an 
example  or  two  which  may  give  a  sufficient  idea  of  the 
whole. 

In  the  first  place,  before  they  left  the  drawing-room,  Miss 
Juliana  O'Leary  pointed  out  to  his  lordship's  attention  a 
picture  over  the  drawing-room  chimney-piece.  "Is  not  it 
a  fine  piece,  my  lord?"  said  she,  naming  the  price  Mrs. 
Raffarty  had  lately  paid  for  it  at  an  auction. — "It  has  a 
right  to  be  a  fine  piece,  indeed;  for  it  cost  a  fine  price!  " 
Nevertheless  this_^;/^  piece  was  a  vile  daub;  and  our  hero 
could  only  avoid  the  sin  of  flattery,  or  the  danger  of  offend- 
ing the  lady,  by  protesting  that  he  had  no  judgment  in 
pictures. 

"Indeed,  I  don't  pretend  to  be  a  connoisseur  or  cono- 
scenti  myself;  but  I'm  told  the  style  is  undeniably  modern. 
And  was  not  I  lucky,  Juliana,  not  to  let  that  Medona  be 
knocked  down  to  me?  I  was  just  going  to  bid,  when  I 
heard  such  smart  bidding;  but  fortunately  the  auctioneer 
let  out  that  it  was  done  by  a  very  old  master — a  hundred 
years  old.  Oh !  your  most  obedient,  thinks  I ! — if  that's 
the  case,  it's  not  for  my  money;  so  I  bought  this,  in  lieu 
of  the  smoke-dried  thing,  and  had  it  a  bargain." 

In  architecture,  Mrs.  Raffarty  had  as  good  a  taste  and  as 
much  skill  as  in  painting.  There  had  been  a  handsome 
portico  in  front  of  the  house ;  but  this  interfering  with  the 
lady's  desire  to  have  a  veranda,  which  she  said  could  not 
be  dispensed  with,  she  had  raised  the  whole  portico  to  the 
second  story,  where  it  stood,  or  seemed  to  stand,  upon  a 
tarpaulin  roof.  But  Mrs.  Raffarty  explained  that  the  pil- 
lars, though  they  looked  so  properly  substantial,  were 
really  hollow  and  as  light  as  feathers,  and  were  supported 

96 


THE  ABSENTEE 

with  cramps,  without  disobliging  the  front  wall  of  the  house 
at  all  to  signify. 

"Before  she  showed  the  company  any  farther,"  she  said, 
"she  must  premise  to  his  lordship,  that  she  had  been 
originally  stinted  in  room  for  her  improvements,  so  that 
she  could  not  follow  her  genius  liberally;  she  had  been 
reduced  to  have  some  things  on  a  confined  scale,  and  oc- 
casionally to  consult  her  pocket-compass;  but  she  prided 
herself  upon  having  put  as  much  into  a  light  pattern  as 
could  well  be;  that  had  been  her  whole  ambition,  study, 
and  problem,  for  she  was  determined  to  have  at  least  the 
honour  of  having  a  little  taste  of  everything  at  Tusculum." 

So  she  led  the  way  to  a  little  conservatory,  and  a  little 
pinery,  and  a  little  grapery,  and  a  little  aviary,  and  a  little 
pheasantry,  and  a  little  dairy  for  show,  and  a  little  cottage 
for  ditto,  with  a  grotto  full  of  shells,  and  a  little  hermitage 
full  of  earwigs,  and  a  little  ruin  full  of  looking-glass,  "to 
enlarge  and  multiply  the  effect  of  the  Gothic."  "But  you 
could  only  put  your  head  in,  because  it  was  just  fresh 
painted,  and  though  there  had  been  a  fire  ordered  in  the 
ruin  all  night,  it  had  only  smoked." 

In  all  Mrs.  Raffarty's  buildings,  whether  ancient  or 
modern,  there  was  a  studied  crookedness. 

"Tes,"  she  said,  "she  hated  everything  straight,  it  was 
so  formal  and  Jinpicturesqne.  Uniformity  and  conformity, " 
she  observed,  "had  their  day;  but  now,  thank  the  stars  of 
the  present  day,  irregularity  and  difformity  bear  the  bell, 
and  have  the  majority." 

As  they  proceeded  and  walked  through  the  grounds, 
from  which  Mrs.  Raffarty,  though  she  had  done  her  best, 
could  not  take  that  which  nature  had  given,  she  pointed 
out  to  my  lord  "a  happy  moving  termination,"  consisting 
of  a  Chinese  bridge,  with  a  fisherman  leaning  over  the  rails. 
On  a  sudden,  the  fisherman  was  seen  to  tumble  over  the 
bridge  into  the  water.  The  gentlemen  ran  to  extricate 
the  poor  fellow,  while  they  heard  Mrs.  Raffarty  bawling  to 
his  lordship  to  beg  he  would  never  mind,  and  not  trouble 
himself. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  bridge,  they  saw  the  man 
7  97 


THE  ABSENTEE 

hanging  from  part  of  the  bridge,  and  apparently  struggling 
in  the  water;  but  when  they  attempted  to  pull  him  up, 
they  found  it  was  only  a  stuffed  figure  which  had  been 
pulled  into  the  stream  by  a  real  fish,  which  had  seized  hold 
of  the  bait. 

Mrs.  Raffarty,  vexed  by  the  fisherman's  fall,  and  by  the 
laughter  it  occasioned,  did  not  recover  herself  sufificiently 
to  be  happily  ridiculous  during  the  remainder  of  the  walk, 
nor  till  dinner  was  announced,  when  she  apologised  for 
"having  changed  the  collation,  at  first  intended,  into  a 
dinner,  which  she  hoped  would  be  found  no  bad  substitute, 
and  which  she  flattered  herself  might  prevail  on  my  lord 
and  the  gentlemen  to  sleep,  as  there  was  no  moon." 

The  dinner  had  two  great  faults — profusion  and  preten- 
sion. There  was,  in  fact,  ten  times  more  on  the  table  than 
was  necessary;  and  the  entertainment  was  far  above  the 
circumstances  of  the  person  by  whom  it  was  given ;  for  in- 
stance, the  dish  of  fish  at  the  head  of  the  table  had  been 
brought  across  the  island  from  Sligo,  and  had  cost  five 
guineas;  as  the  lady  of  the  house  failed  not  to  make 
known.  But,  after  all,  things  were  not  of  a  piece ;  there 
was  a  disparity  between  the  entertainment  and  the  attend- 
ants; there  was  no  proportion  or  fitness  of  things — a  pain- 
ful endeavour  at  what  could  not  be  attained,  and  a  toiling 
in  vain  to  conceal  and  repair  deficiencies  and  blunders. 
Had  the  mistress  of  the  house  been  quiet ;  had  she,  as  Mrs. 
Broadhurst  would  say,  but  let  things  alone,  let  things  take 
their  course,  all  would  have  passed  off  with  well-bred  peo- 
ple; but  she  was  incessantly  apologising,  and  fussing,  and 
fretting  inwardly  and  outwardly,  and  directing  and  calling 
to  her  servants — striving  to  make  a  butler  who  was  deaf,  a 
boy  who  was  hare-brained,  do  the  business  of  five  accom- 
plished footmen  oi  parts  and  figjire.  The  mistress  of  the 
house  called  for  "plates,  clean  plates! — hot  plates!  " 

"But  none  did  come,  when  she  did  call  for  them." 

Mrs.  Raffarty  called  "Larry!  Larry!  My  lord's  plate, 
there! — James!  bread  to  Captain  Bowles! — James!  port 
wine  to  the  major! — James!  James  Kenny!  James!  " 

"And  panting  James  toiled  after  her  in  vain." 

98 


THE  ABSENTEE 

At  length  one  course  was  fairly  got  through,  and  after  a 
torturing  half-hour,  the  second  course  appeared,  and  James 
Kenny  was  intent  upon  one  thing,  and  Larry  upon  another, 
so  that  the  wine-sauce  for  the  hare  was  spilt  by  their  col- 
lision ;  but,  what  was  worse,  there  seemed  little  chance 
that  the  whole  of  this  second  course  should  ever  be  placed 
altogether  rightly  upon  the  table.  Mrs.  Raffarty  cleared 
her  throat,  and  nodded,  and  pointed,  and  sighed,  and  set 
Larry  after  Kenny,  and  Kenny  after  Larry ;  for  what  one 
did,  the  other  undid;  and  at  last  the  lady's  anger  kindled, 
and  she  spoke : 

"Kenny!  James  Kenny!  set  the  sea-cale  at  this  corner, 
and  put  down  the  grass  cross-corners ;  and  match  your 
macaroni  yonder  with  them  puddens,  set — Ogh !  James ! 
the  pyramid  in  the  middle,  can't  ye?  " 

The  pyramid,  in  changing  places,  was  overturned.  Then 
it  was  that  the  mistress  of  the  feast,  falling  back  in  her  seat, 
and  lifting  up  her  hands  and  eyes  in  despair,  ejaculated, 
"Oh,  James!  James!" 

The  pyramid  was  raised  by  the  assistance  of  the  military 
engineers,  and  stood  trembling  again  on  its  base;  but  the 
lady's  temper  could  not  be  so  easily  restored  to  its  equi- 
librium. 

The  comedy  of  errors,  which  this  day's  visit  exhibited, 
amused  all  the  spectators.  But  Lord  Colambre,  after  he 
had  smiled,  sometimes  sighed. — Similar  foibles  and  follies 
in  persons  of  different  rank,  fortune,  and  manner,  appear 
to  common  observers  so  unlike,  that  they  laugh  without 
scruples  of  conscience  in  one  case,  at  what  in  another 
ought  to  touch  themselves  most  nearly.  It  was  the  same 
desire  to  appear  what  they  were  not,  the  same  vain  ambi- 
tion to  vie  with  superior  rank  and  fortune,  or  fashion, 
which  actuated  Lady  Clonbrony  and  Mrs.  Raffarty;  and 
whilst  this  ridiculous  grocer's  wife  made  herself  the  sport 
of  some  of  her  guests.  Lord  Colambre  sighed,  from  the 
reflection  that  what  she  was  to  them,  his  mother  was  to 
persons  in  a  higher  rank  of  fashion. — He  sighed  still  more 
deeply,  when  he  considered,  that,  in  whatever  station  or 
with   whatever  fortune,  extravagance,  that   is  the  living 

99 


THE  ABSENTEE 

beyond  our  income,  must  lead  to  distress  and  meanness, 
and  end  in  shame  and  ruin.  In  the  morning,  as  they  were 
riding  away  from  Tusculum  and  talking  over  their  visit, 
the  officers  laughed  heartily,  and  rallying  Lord  Colambre 
upon  his  seriousness,  accused  him  of  having  fallen  in  love 
with  Mrs.  Raffarty,  or  with  the  elegant  Miss  Juliana.  Our 
hero,  who  wished  never  to  be  nice  overmuch,  or  serious 
out  of  season,  laughed  with  those  that  laughed,  and  en- 
deavoured to  catch  the  spirit  of  the  jest.  But  Sir  James 
Brooke,  who  now  was  well  acquainted  with  his  counten- 
ance, and  who  knew  something  of  the  history  of  his  family, 
understood  his  real  feelings,  and,  sympathising  in  them, 
endeavoured  to  give  the  conversation  a  new  turn. 

"Look  there,  Bowles,"  said  he,  as  they  were  just  riding 
into  the  town  of  Bray;  "look  at  the  barouche,  standing  at 
that  green  door,  at  the  farthest  end  of  the  town.  Is  not 
that  Lady  Dashfort's  barouche?  " 

"It  looks  like  what  she  sported  in  Dublin  last  year," 
said  Bowles;  "but  you  don't  think  she'd  give  us  the  same 
two  seasons?  Besides,  she  is  not  in  Ireland,  is  she?  I  did 
not  hear  of  her  intending  to  come  over  again." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  another  officer;  "she  will 
come  again  to  so  good  a  market,  to  marry  her  other 
daughter.  I  hear  she  said,  or  swore,  that  she  will  marry 
the  young  widow.  Lady  Isabel,  to  an  Irish  nobleman." 

"Whatever  she  says,  she  swears,  and  whatever  she  swears, 
she'll  do,"  replied  Bowles.  "Have  a  care,  my  Lord  Co- 
lambre; if  she  sets  her  heart  upon  you  for  Lady  Isabel,  she 
has  you.  Nothing  can  save  you.  Heart  she  has  none,  so 
there  you're  safe,  my  lord,"  said  the  other  officer;  "but  if 
Lady  Isabel  sets  her  eye  upon  you,  no  basilisk's  is  surer." 

"But  if  Lady  Dashfort  had  landed  I  am  sure  we  should 
have  heard  of  it,  for  she  makes  noise  enough  wherever  she 
goes ;  especially  in  Dublin,  where  all  she  said  and  did  was 
echoed  and  magnified,  till  one  could  hear  of  nothing  else. 
I  don't  think  she  has  landed." 

"I  hope  to  Heaven  they  may  never  land  again  in  Ire- 
land! "  cried  Sir  James  Brooke;  "one  worthless  woman, 
especially  one  worthless  Englishwoman  of  rank,  does  in- 

loo 


THE  ABSENTEE 

calculable  mischief  in  a  country  like  this,  which  looks  up 
to  the  sister  country  for  fashion.  For  my  own  part,  as  a 
warm  friend  to  Ireland,  I  would  rather  see  all  the  toads 
and  serpents,  and  venomous  reptiles,  that  St.  Patrick  car- 
ried off  in  his  bag,  come  back  to  this  island,  than  these  two 
dashers.  Why,  they  would  bite  half  the  women  and  girls 
in  the  kingdom  with  the  rage  for  mischief,  before  half  the 
husbands  and  fathers  could  turn  their  heads  about.  And, 
once  bit,  there's  no  cure  in  nature  or  art." 

"No  horses  to  this  barouche!  "  cried  Captain  Bowles. — 
"Pray,  sir,  whose  carriage  is  this?"  said  the  captain  to  a 
servant  who  was  standing  beside  it. 

"My  Lady  Dashfort,  sir,  it  belongs  to,"  answered  the 
servant,  in  rather  a  surly  English  tone;  and  turning  to  a 
boy  who  was  lounging  at  the  door — "Pat,  bid  them  bring 
out  the  horses,  for  my  ladies  is  in  a  hurry  to  get  home." 

Captain  Bowles  stopped  to  make  his  servant  alter  the 
girths  of  his  horse,  and  to  satisfy  his  curiosity;  and  the 
whole  party  halted.  Captain  Bowles  beckoned  to  the  land- 
lord of  the  inn,  who  was  standing  at  his  door. 

"So,  Lady  Dashfort  is  here  again? — This  is  her  barouche, 
is  not  it?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  she  is — it  is." 

"And  has  she  sold  her  fine  horses?" 

"Oh  no,  sir — this  is  not  her  carriage  at  all — she  is  not 
here.  That  is,  she  is  here,  in  Ireland;  but  down  in  the 
county  of  Wicklow,  on  a  visit.  And  this  is  not  her  own 
carriage  at  all ; — that  is  to  say,  not  that  which  she  has  with 
herself,  driving;  but  only  just  the  cast  barouche  like,  as 
she  keeps  for  the  lady's-maids." 

"For  the  lady's-maids!  that  is  good!  that  is  new,  faith! 
— Sir  James,  do  you  hear  that?  " 

"Indeed,  then,  and  it's  true,  and  not  a  word  of  a  lie !  " 
said  the  honest  landlord.  "And  this  minute,  we've  got  a 
directory  of  five  of  them  abigails,  sitting  within  in  our 
house;  as  fine  ladies,  as  great  dashers,  too,  every  bit  as 
their  principals  ;  and  kicking  up  as  much  dust  on  the  road, 
every  grain! — Think  of  them,  now!  The  likes  of  them, 
that  must  have  four  horses,  and  would  not  stir  a  foot  with 

lOI 


THE  ABSENTEE 

one  less! — As  the  gentleman's  gentleman  there  was  telling 
and  boasting  to  me  about  now,  when  the  barouche  was 
ordered  for  them,  there  at  the  lady's  house,  where  Lady 
Dashfort  is  on  a  visit — they  said  they  would  not  get  in  till 
they'd  get  four  horses;  and  their  ladies  backed  them;  and 
so  the  four  horses  was  got;  and  they  just  drove  out  here, 
to  see  the  points  of  view  for  fashion's  sake,  like  their  bet- 
ters; and  up  with  their  glasses,  like  their  ladies;  and  then 
out  with  their  watches,  and  'Isn't  it  time  to  lunch?'  So 
there  they  have  been  lunching  within  on  what  they  brought 
with  them;  for  nothing  in  our  house  could  they  touch,  of 
course !  They  brought  themselves  a  picknick  lunch,  with 
Madeira  and  Champagne  to  wash  it  down.  Why,  gentle- 
men, what  do  you  think,  but  a  set  of  them,  as  they  were 
bragging  to  me,  turned  out  of  a  boarding-house  at  Chelten- 
ham, last  year,  because  they  had  not  peach-pies  to  their 
lunch! — But  here  they  come!  shawls,  and  veils,  and  all! — 
streamers  flying !  But  mum  is  my  cue ! — Captain,  are  these 
girths  to  your  fancy  now?  "  said  the  landlord,  aloud  ;  then, 
as  he  stooped  to  alter  a  buckle,  he  said,  in  a  voice  meant  to 
be  heard  only  by  Captain  Bowles,  "If  there's  a  tongue, 
male  or  female,  in  the  three  kingdoms,  it's  in  that  foremost 
woman,  Mrs.  Petito." 

"Mrs.  Petito!"  repeated  Lord  Colambre,  as  the  name 
caught  his  ear;  and,  approaching  the  barouche  in  which 
the  five  abigails  were  now  seated,  he  saw  the  identical  Mrs. 
Petito,  who,  when  he  left  London,  had  been  in  his  mother's 
service. 

She  recognised  his  lordship  with  very  gracious  intimacy ; 
and,  before  he  had  time  to  ask  any  questions,  she  answered 
all  she  conceived  he  was  going  to  ask,  and  with  a  volubility 
which  justified  the  landlord's  eulogium  of  her  tongue. 

"Yes,  my  lord!  I  left  my  Lady  Clonbrony  some  time 
back — the  day  after  you  left  town ;  and  both  her  ladyship 
and  Miss  Nugent  was  charmingly,  and  would  have  sent 
their  loves  to  your  lordship,  I'm  sure,  if  they'd  any  notion 
I  should  have  met  you,  my  lord,  so  soon.  And  I  was  very 
sorry  to  part  with  them;  but  the  fact  was,  my  lord,"  said 
Mrs.  Petito,  laying  a  detaining  hand  upon  Lord  Colambre's 

I02 


THE  ABSENTEE 

whip,  one  end  of  which  he  unwittingly  trusted  within  her 
reach, — "I  and  my  lady  had  a  little  difference,  which  the 
best  friends,  you  know,  sometimes  have;  so  my  Lady 
Clonbrony  was  so  condescending  to  give  me  up  to  my 
Lady  Dashfort — and  I  knew  no  more  than  the  child  un- 
born that  her  ladyship  had  it  in  contemplation  to  cross  the 
seas.  But,  to  oblige  my  lady,  and  as  Colonel  Heathcock, 
with  his  regiment  of  militia,  was  coming  for  purtection  in 
the  packet  at  the  same  time,  and  we  to  have  the  govern- 
ment-yacht, I  waived  my  objections  to  Ireland.  And, 
indeed,  though  I  was  greatly  frighted  at  first,  having  heard 
all  we've  heard,  you  know,  my  lord,  from  Lady  Clonbrony, 
of  there  being  no  living  in  Ireland,  and  expecting  to  see  no 
trees  nor  accommodation,  nor  anything  but  bogs  all  along; 
yet  I  declare,  I  was  very  agreeably  surprised;  for,  as  far  as 
I've  seen  at  Dublin  and  in  the  vicinity,  the  accommoda- 
tions, and  everything  of  that  nature,  now  is  vastly  put-up- 
able  with!  " — "My  lord,"  said  Sir  James  Brooke,  "we  shall 
be  late."  Lord  Colambre,  shortly  withdrawing  his  whip 
from  Mrs.  Petito,  turned  his  horse  away.  She,  stretching 
over  the  back  of  the  barouche  as  he  rode  off,  bawled  to 
him — 

"My  lord,  we're  at  Stephen's  Green,  when  we're  at 
Dublin."  But  as  he  did  not  choose  to  hear,  she  raised  her 
voice  to  its  highest  pitch,  adding — 

"And  where  are  you,  my  lord,  to  be  found? — as  I  have 
a  parcel  of  Miss  Nugent's  for  you." 

Lord  Colambre  instantly  turned  back,  and  gave  his 
direction. 

"Cleverly  done,  faith!"  said  the  major.  "I  did  not 
hear  her  say  when  Lady  Dashfort  is  to  be  in  town,"  said 
Captain  Bowles. 

"What,  Bowles!  have  you  a  mind  to  lose  more  of  your 
guineas  to  Lady  Dashfort,  and  to  be  jockied  out  of  another 
horse  by  Lady  Isabel?  " 

"Oh!  confound  it — no!  I'll  keep  out  of  the  way  of 
that — I  have  had  enough,"  said  Captain  Bowles;  "it  is 
my  Lord  Colambrc's  turn  now;  you  hear  that  Lady  Dash- 
fort would  be  w try  proud  to  see  him.     His  lordship  is  in 

103 


THE  ABSENTEE 

for  it,  and  with  such  an  auxihary  as  Mrs.  Petito,  Lady 
Dashfort  has  him  for  Lady  Isabel,  as  sure  as  he  has  a  heart 
or  hand." 

"My  compliments  to  the  ladies,  but  my  heart  is  en- 
gaged," said  Lord  Colambre;  "and  my  hand  shall  go  with 
my  heart,  or  not  at  all." 

"Engaged  !  engaged  to  a  very  amiable,  charming  woman, 
no  doubt,"  said  Sir  James  Brooke.  "I  have  an  excellent 
opinion  of  your  taste;  and  if  you  can  return  the  compli- 
ment to  my  judgment,  take  my  advice:  don't  trust  to 
your  heart's  being  engaged,  much  less  plead  that  engage- 
ment ;  for  it  would  be  Lady  Dashfort's  sport,  and  Lady 
Isabel's  joy,  to  make  you  break  your  engagement,  and 
break  your  mistress's  heart ;  the  fairer,  the  more  amiable, 
the  more  beloved,  the  greater  the  triumph,  the  greater  the 
delight  in  giving  pain.  All  the  time  love  would  be  out  of 
the  question ;  neither  mother  nor  daughter  would  care  if 
you  were  hanged,  or,  as  Lady  Dashfort  would  herself  have 
expressed  it,  if  you  were  d — d." 

"With  such  women,  I  should  think  a  man's  heart  could 
be  in  no  great  danger,"  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"There  you  might  be  mistaken,  my  lord;  there's  a  way 
to  every  man's  heart,  which  no  man  in  his  own  case  is 
aware  of,  but  which  every  woman  knows  right  well,  and 
none  better  than  these  ladies — by  his  vanity." 

"True,"  said  Captain  Bowles. 

"I  am  not  so  vain  as  to  think  myself  without  vanity," 
said  Lord  Colambre;  "but  love,  I  should  imagine,  is  a 
stronger  passion  than  vanity." 

"You  should  imagine!  Stay  till  you  are  tried,  my  lord. 
Excuse  me,"  said  Captain  Bowles,  laughing. 

Lord  Colambre  felt  the  good  sense  of  this,  and  deter- 
mined to  have  nothing  to  do  with  these  dangerous  ladies; 
indeed,  though  he  had  talked,  he  had  scarcely  yet  thought 
of  them ;  for  his  imagination  was  intent  upon  that  packet 
from  Miss  Nugent,  which  Mrs.  Petito  said  she  had  for  him. 
He  heard  nothing  of  it,  or  of  her,  for  some  days.  He  sent 
his  servant  every  day  to  Stephen's  Green  to  inquire  if  Lady 
Dashfort  had  returned  to  town.     Her  ladyship  at  last  re- 

104 


THE  ABSENTEE 

turned ;  but  Mrs.  Petito  could  not  deliver  the  parcel  to  any 
hand  but  Lord  Colambre's  own,  and  she  would  not  stir 
out,  because  her  lady  was  indisposed.  No  longer  able  to 
restrain  his  impatience,  Lord  Colambre  went  himself — 
knocked  at  Lady  Dashfort's  door — inquired  for  Mrs.  Petito 
— was  shown  into  her  parlour.  The  parcel  was  delivered 
to  him ;  but  to  his  utter  disappointment,  it  was  a  parcel 
for,  not  from  Miss  Nugent.  It  contained  merely  an  odd 
volume  of  some  book  of  Miss  Nugent's  which  Mrs.  Petito 
said  she  had  put  up  along  with  her  things  in  a  mistake,  and 
she  thought  it  her  duty  to  return  it  by  the  first  opportunity 
of  a  safe  conveyance. 

Whilst  Lord  Colambre,  to  comfort  himself  for  his  disap- 
pointment, was  fixing  his  eyes  upon  Miss  Nugent's  name, 
written  by  her  own  hand,  in  the  first  leaf  of  the  book,  the 
door  opened,  and  the  figure  of  an  interesting-looking 
woman,  in  deep  mourning,  appeared — appeared  for  one 
moment,  and  retired. 

' '  Only  my  Lord  Colambre,  about  a  parcel  I  was  bringing 
for  him  from  England,  my  lady — my  Lady  Isabel,  my 
lord,"  said  Mrs.  Petito.  Whilst  Mrs.  Petito  was  saying 
this,  the  entrance  and  retreat  had  been  made,  and  made 
with  such  dignity,  grace,  and  modesty ;  with  such  inno- 
cence, dove-like  eyes  had  been  raised  upon  him,  fixed  and 
withdrawn  ;  with  such  a  gracious  bend  the  Lady  Isabel  had 
bowed  to  him  as  she  retired ;  with  such  a  smile,  and  with 
so  soft  a  voice,  had  repeated  "Lord  Colambre!"  that  his 
lordship,  though  well  aware  that  all  this  was  mere  acting, 
could  not  help  saying  to  himself  as  he  left  the  house : 

"It  is  a  pity  it  is  only  acting.  There  is  certainly  some- 
thing very  engaging  in  this  woman.  It  is  a  pity  she  is  an 
actress.  And  so  young !  A  much  younger  woman  than 
I  expected.  A  widow  before  most  women  are  wives.  So 
young,  surely  she  cannot  be  such  a  fiend  as  they  described 
her  to  be! '  A  few  nights  afterwards  Lord  Colambre  was 
with  some  of  his  acquaintance  at  the  theatre,  when  Lady 
Isabel  and  her  mother  came  into  the  box,  where  seats  had 
been  reserved  for  them,  and  where  their  appearance  in- 
stantly made  that  sensation  which  is  usually  created  by  the 

105 


THE  ABSENTEE 

entrance  of  persons  of  the  first  notoriety  in  the  fashionable 
world.  Lord  Colambre  was  not  a  man  to  be  dazzled  by 
fashion,  or  to  mistake  notoriety  for  deference  paid  to  merit, 
and  for  the  admiration  commanded  by  beauty  or  talents. 
Lady  Dashfort's  coarse  person,  loud  voice,  daring  manners, 
and  indelicate  wit,  disgusted  him  almost  past  endurance. 
He  saw  Sir  James  Brooke  in  the  box  opposite  to  him ;  and 
twice  determined  to  go  round  to  him.  His  lordship  had 
crossed  the  benches,  and  once  his  hand  was  upon  the  lock 
of  the  door;  but  attracted  as  much  by  the  daughter  as  re- 
pelled by  the  mother,  he  could  move  no  farther.  The 
mother's  masculine  boldness  heightened,  by  contrast,  the 
charms  of  the  daughter's  soft  sentimentality.  The  Lady 
Isabel  seemed  to  shrink  from  the  indelicacy  of  her  mother's 
manners,  and  seemed  peculiarly  distressed  by  the  strange 
efforts  Lady  Dashfort  made,  from  time  to  time,  to  drag 
her  forward,  and  to  fix  upon  her  the  attention  of  gentle- 
men. Colonel  Heathcock,  who,  as  Mrs.  Petito  had  in- 
formed Lord  Colambre,  had  come  over  with  his  regiment 
to  Ireland,  was  beckoned  into  their  box  by  Lady  Dashfort, 
by  her  squeezed  into  a  seat  next  to  Lady  Isabel ;  but  Lady 
Isabel  seemed  to  feel  sovereign  contempt,  properly  re- 
pressed by  politeness,  for  what,  in  a  low  whisper  to  a 
female  friend  on  the  other  side  of  her,  she  called,  "the 
self-sufficient  inanity  of  this  sad  coxcomb."  Other  cox- 
combs, of  a  more  vivacious  style,  who  stationed  themselves 
round  her  mother,  or  to  whom  her  mother  stretched  from 
box  to  box  to  talk,  seemed  to  engage  no  more  of  Lady 
Isabel's  attention  than  just  what  she  was  compelled  to  give 
by  Lady  Dashfort's  repeated  calls  of — 

"Isabel!  Isabel!     Colonel  G Isabel!     Lord  D 

bowing  to  you.     Belle!  Belle!     Sir  Harry  B Isabel, 

child,  with  your  eyes  on  the  stage?     Did  you  never  see  a 

play  before?     Novice !     Major  P waiting  to  catch  your 

eye  this  quarter  of  an  hour;  and  now  her  eyes  gone  down 
to  her  play-bill !     Sir  Harry,  do  take  it  from  her. 

"  Were  eyes  so  radiant  only  made  to  read?  " 

Lady   Isabel  appeared  to  suffer  so  exquisitely  and  so 

1 06 


THE  ABSENTEE 

naturally  from  this  persecution,  that  Lord  Colambre  said 
to  himself — 

"If  this  be  acting,  it  is  the  best  acting  I  ever  saw.  If 
this  be  art,  it  deserves  to  be  nature." 

And  with  this  sentiment  he  did  himself  the  honour  of 
handing  Lady  Isabel  to  her  carriage  this  night,  and  with 
this  sentiment  he  awoke  next  morning;  and  by  the  time  he 
had  dressed  and  breakfasted  he  determined  that  it  was  im- 
possible all  that  he  had  seen  could  be  acting.  "No  woman, 
no  young  woman,  could  have  such  art.  Sir  James  Brooke 
had  been  unwarrantably  severe;  he  would  go  and  tell  him 
so." 

But  Sir  James  Brooke  this  day  received  orders  for  his 
regiment  to  march  to  quarters  in  a  distant  part  of  Ireland. 
His  head  was  full  of  arms,  and  ammunition,  and  knapsacks, 
and  billets,  and  routes ;  and  there  was  no  possibility,  even 
in  the  present  chivalrous  disposition  of  our  hero,  to  enter 
upon  the  defence  of  the  Lady  Isabel.  Indeed,  in  the  re- 
gret he  felt  for  the  approaching  and  unexpected  departure 
of  his  friend,  Lord  Colambre  forgot  the  fair  lady.  But  just 
when  Sir  James  had  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  he  stopped. 

"By  the  bye,  my  dear  lord,  I  saw  you  at  the  play  last 
night.  You  seemed  to  be  much  interested.  Don't  think 
me  impertinent,  if  I  remind  you  of  our  conversation  when 
we  were  riding  home  from  Tusculum ;  and  if  I  warn  you," 
said  he,  mounting  his  horse,  "to  beware  of  counterfeits — 
for  such  are  abroad."  Reining  in  his  impatient  steed,  Sir 
James  turned  again  and  added,  ''Deeds  not  words,  is  my 
motto.  Remember,  we  can  judge  better  by  the  conduct 
of  people  towards  others  than  by  their  manner  towards 
ourselves." 


CHAPTER  VIL 

UR  hero  was  quite  convinced  of  the  good  sense  of  his 
friend's  last  remark,  that  it  is  safer  to  judge  of  people 
by  their  conduct  to  others  than  by  their  manners  to- 
wards ourselves ;  but  as  yet,  he  felt  scarcely  any  interest  on 

107 


o 


THE  ABSENTEE 

the  subject  of  Lady  Dashfort's  or  Lady  Isabel's  characters; 
however,  he  inquired  and  listened  to  all  the  evidence  he 
could  obtain  respecting  this  mother  and  daughter. 

He  heard  terrible  reports  of  the  mischief  they  had  done 
in  families ;  the  extravagance  into  which  they  had  led  men  ; 
the  imprudence,  to  say  no  worse,  into  which  they  had  be- 
trayed women.  Matches  broken  off,  reputations  ruined, 
husbands  alienated  from  their  wives,  and  wives  made  jeal- 
ous of  their  husbands.  But  in  some  of  these  stories  he 
discovered  exaggeration  so  flagrant  as  to  make  him  doubt 
the  whole;  in  others,  it  could  not  be  positively  determined 
whether  the  mother  or  daughter  had  been  the  person  most 
to  blame. 

Lord  Colambre  always  followed  the  charitable  rule  of 
believing  only  half  what  the  world  says,  and  here  he  thought 
it  fair  to  believe  which  half  he  pleased.  He  further  ob- 
served, that,  though  all  joined  in  abusing  these  ladies  in 
their  absence,  when  present  they  seemed  universally  ad- 
mired. Though  everybody  cried  "shame!"  and  "shock- 
ing !  "  yet  everybody  visited  them.  No  parties  so  crowded 
as  Lady  Dashfort's;  no  party  deemed  pleasant  or  fashion- 
able where  Lady  Dashfort  or  Lady  Isabel  was  not.  The 
bon-mots  of  the  mother  were  everywhere  repeated ;  the 
dress  and  air  of  the  daughter  everywhere  imitated.  Yet 
Lord  Colambre  could  not  help  being  surprised  at  their 
popularity  in  Dublin,  because,  independently  of  all  moral 
objections,  there  were  causes  of  a  different  sort,  sufificient, 
he  thought,  to  prevent  Lady  Dashfort  from  being  liked  by 
the  Irish ;  indeed  by  any  society.  She  in  general  affected 
to  be  ill-bred,  and  inattentive  to  the  feelings  and  opinions 
of  others ;  careless  whom  she  offended  by  her  wit  or  by 
her  decided  tone.  There  are  some  persons  in  so  high  a 
region  of  fashion,  that  they  imagine  themselves  above  the 
thunder  of  vulgar  censure.  Lady  Dashfort  felt  herself  in 
this  exalted  situation,  and  fancied  she  might  "hear  the  in- 
nocuous thunder  roll  below."  Her  rank  was  so  high  that 
none  could  dare  to  call  her  vulgar;  what  would  have  been 
gross  in  any  one  of  meaner  note,  in  her  was  freedom,  or 
originality,  or  Lady  Dashfort's  way.     It  was  Lady  Dash- 

io8 


THE  ABSENTEE 

fort's  pleasure  and  pride  to  show  her  power  in  perverting 
the  public  taste.  She  often  said  to  those  English  com- 
panions with  whom  she  was  intimate,  "Now  see  what  follies 
I  can  lead  these  fools  into.  Hear  the  nonsense  I  can  make 
them  repeat  as  wit."  Upon  some  occasion,  one  of  her 
friends  ventured  to  fear  that  something  she  had  said  was 
too  strong.  ' '  Too  strong,  was  it  ?  Well,  I  like  to  be  strong 
— woe  be  to  the  weak."  On  another  occasion  she  was  told 
that  certain  visitors  had  seen  her  ladyship  yawning. 
"Yawn,  did  I? — glad  of  it — the  yawn  sent  them  away,  or 
I  should  have  snored; — rude,  was  I?  they  won't  complain. 
To  say  I  was  rude  to  them  would  be  to  say,  that  I  did  not 
think  it  worth  my  while  to  be  otherwise.  Barbarians !  are 
not  we  the  civilised  English,  come  to  teach  them  manners 
and  fashions?  Whoever  does  not  conform,  and  swear 
allegiance  too,  we  shall  keep  out  of  the  English  pale." 

Lady  Dashfort  forced  her  way,  and  she  set  the  fashion : 
fashion,  which  converts  the  ugliest  dress  into  what  is  beau- 
tiful and  charming,  governs  the  public  mode  in  morals  and 
in  manners;  and  thus,  when  great  talents  and  high  rank 
combine,  they  can  debase  or  elevate  the  public  taste. 

With  Lord  Colambre  she  played  more  artfully  ;  she  drew 
him  out  in  defence  of  his  beloved  country,  and  gave  him 
opportunities  of  appearing  to  advantage;  this  he  could  not 
help  feeling,  especially  when  the  Lady  Isabel  was  present. 
Lady  Dashfort  had  dealt  long  enough  with  human  nature 
to  know,  that  to  make  any  man  pleased  with  her,  she 
should  begin  by  making  him  pleased  with  himself. 

Insensibly  the  antipathy  that  Lord  Colambre  had  origin- 
ally felt  to  Lady  Dashfort  wore  off;  her  faults,  he  began 
to  think,  were  assumed ;  he  pardoned  her  defiance  of  good 
breeding,  when  he  observed  that  she  could,  when  she  chose 
it,  be  most  engagingly  polite.  It  was  not  that  she  did  not 
know  what  was  right,  but  that  she  did  not  think  it  always 
for  her  interest  to  practise  it. 

The  party  opposed  to  Lady  Dashfort  afifirmed  that  her 
wit  depended  merely  on  unexpectedness;  a  characteristic 
which  may  be  applied  to  any  impropriety  of  speech,  man- 
ner,  or  conduct.     In  some  of  her  ladyship's  repartees, 

109 


THE  ABSENTEE 

however,  Lord  Colambre  now  acknowledged  there  was 
more  than  unexpectedness ;  there  was  real  wit ;  but  it  was 
of  a  sort  utterly  unfit  for  a  woman,  and  he  was  sorry  that 
Lady  Isabel  should  hear  it.  In  short,  exceptionable  as  it 
was  altogether,  Lady  Dashfort's  conversation  had  become 
entertaining  to  him ;  and  though  he  could  never  esteem  or 
feel  in  the  least  interested  about  her,  he  began  to  allow  that 
she  could  be  agreeable. 

"Ay,  I  knew  how  it  would  be,"  said  she,  when  some  of 
her  friends  told  her  this.  "He  began  by  detesting  me,  and 
did  I  not  tell  you  that,  if  I  thought  it  worth  my  while  to 
make  him  like  me,  he  must,  sooner  or  later?  I  delight  in 
seeing  people  begin  with  me  as  they  do  with  olives,  making 
all  manner  of  horrid  faces  and  silly  protestations  that  they 
will  never  touch  an  olive  again  as  long  as  they  live ;  but, 
after  a  little  time,  these  very  folk  grow  so  desperately  fond 
of  olives,  that  there  is  no  dessert  without  them.  Isabel, 
child,  you  are  in  the  sweet  line — but  sweets  cloy.  You 
never  heard  of  anybody  living  on  marmalade,  did  ye?" — 
Lady  Isabel  answered  by  a  sweet  smile. — "To  do  you  jus- 
tice, you  play  Lydia  Languish  vastly  well,"  pursued  the 
mother;  "but  Lydia,  by  herself,  would  soon  tire;  some- 
body must  keep  up  the  spirit  and  bustle,  and  carry  on  the 
plot  of  the  piece ;  and  I  am  that  somebody — as  you  shall 
see.  Is  not  that  our  hero's  voice,  which  I  hear  on  the 
stairs?  " 

It  was  Lord  Colambre.  His  lordship  had  by  this  time 
become  a  constant  visitor  at  Lady  Dashfort's.  Not  that 
he  had  forgotten,  or  that  he  meant  to  disregard  his  friend 
Sir  James  Brooke's  parting  words.  He  promised  himself 
faithfully,  that  if  anything  should  occur  to  give  him  reason 
to  suspect  designs,  such  as  those  to  which  the  warning 
pointed,  he  would  be  on  his  guard,  and  would  prove  his 
generalship  by  an  able  retreat.  But  to  imagine  attacks 
where  none  were  attempted,  to  suspect  ambuscades  in  the 
open  country,  would  be  ridiculous  and  cowardly. 

"No,"  thought  our  hero;  "Heaven  forfend  I  should  be 
such  a  coxcomb  as  to  fancy  every  woman  who  speaks  to 
me  has  designs  upon  my  precious  heart,  or  on  my  more 

no 


THE  ABSENTEE 

precious  estate!  "  As  he  walked  from  his  hotel  to  Lady 
Dashfort's  house,  ingeniously  wrong,  he  came  to  this  con- 
clusion, just  as  he  ascended  the  stairs,  and  just  as  her 
ladyship  had  settled  her  future  plan  of  operations. 

After  talking  over  the  nothings  of  the  day,  and  after 
having  given  two  or  three  ads  at  the  society  of  Dublin, 
with  two  or  three  compliments  to  individuals,  who,  she 
knew,  were  favourites  with  his  lordship,  she  suddenly 
turned  to  him — 

"My  lord,  I  think  you  told  me,  or  my  own  sagacity  dis- 
covered, that  you  want  to  see  something  of  Ireland,  and 
that  you  don't  intend,  like  most  travellers,  to  turn  round, 
see  nothing,  and  go  home  content." 

Lord  Colambre  assured  her  ladyship  that  she  had  judged 
him  rightly,  for,  that  nothing  would  content  him  but  see- 
ing all  that  was  possible  to  be  seen  of  his  native  country. 
It  was  for  this  special  purpose  he  came  to  Ireland. 

"Ah! — well — very  good  purpose — can't  be  better;  but 
now,  how  to  accomplish  it.  You  know  the  Portuguese 
proverb  says,  'You  go  to  hell  for  the  good  things  you  in- 
tend to  do,  and  to  heaven  for  those  you  do.'  Now  let  us 
see  what  you  will  do.  Dublin,  I  suppose,  you've  seen 
enough  of  by  this  time ;  through  and  through — round  and 
round — this  makes  me  first  giddy  and  then  sick.  Let  me 
show  you  the  country — not  the  face  of  it,  but  the  body  of 
it — the  people.  Not  Castle  this,  or  Newtown  that,  but 
their  inhabitants.  I  know  them ;  I  have  the  key,  or  the 
picklock  to  their  minds.  An  Irishman  is  as  different  an 
animal  on  his  guard,  and  off  his  guard,  as  a  miss  in  school 
from  a  miss  out  of  school.  A  fine  country  for  game,  I'll 
show  you;  and,  if  you  are  a  good  marksman,  you  may 
have  plenty  of  shots  'at  folly  as  it  flies.'  " 

Lord  Colambre  smiled.  "As  to  Isabel,"  pursued  her 
ladyship,  "I  shall  put  her  in  charge  of  Heathcock,  who  is 
going  with  us.  She  won't  thank  me  for  that,  but  you  will. 
Nay,  no  fibs,  man ;  you  know,  I  know,  as  who  does  not 
that  has  seen  the  world,  that  though  a  pretty  woman  is  a 
mighty  pretty  thing,  yet  she  is  confoundedly  in  one's  way, 
when  anything  else  is  to  be  seen,  heard — or  understood." 

Ill 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Every  objection  anticipated  and  removed,  and  so  far  a 
prospect  held  out  of  attaining  all  the  information  he  de- 
sired, with  more  than  all  the  amusement  he  could  have 
expected.  Lord  Colambre  seemed  much  tempted  to  accept 
the  invitation ;  but  he  hesitated,  because,  as  he  said,  her 
ladyship  might  be  going  to  pay  visits  where  he  was  not 
acquainted. 

"Bless  you!  don't  let  that  be  a  stumbling-block  in  the 
way  of  your  tender  conscience.  I  am  going  to  Killpatricks- 
town,  where  you'll  be  as  welcome  as  light.  You  know 
them,  they  know  you ;  at  least  you  shall  have  a  proper 
letter  of  invitation  from  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  Kiilpatrick, 
and  all  that.  And  as  to  the  rest,  you  know  a  young  man 
is  always  welcome  everywhere,  a  young  nobleman  kindly 
welcome, — I  won't  say  such  a  young  man,  and  such  a 
young  nobleman,  for  that  might  put  you  to  your  bows  or 
your  blushes — but  nobilitas  by  itself,  nobility  is  enough  in 
all  parties,  in  all  families,  where  there  are  girls,  and  of 
course  balls,  as  there  are  always  at  Killpatrickstown.  Don't 
be  alarmed ;  you  shall  not  be  forced  to  dance,  or  asked  to 
marry.  I'll  be  your  security.  You  shall  be  at  full  liberty ; 
and  it  is  a  house  where  you  can  do  just  what  you  will. 
Indeed,  I  go  to  no  others.  These  Killpatricks  are  the 
best  creatures  in  the  world;  they  think  nothing  good  or 
grand  enough  for  me.  If  I'd  let  them,  they  would  lay 
down  cloth  of  gold  over  their  bogs  for  me  to  walk  upon. — 
Good-hearted  beings!"  added  Lady  Dashfort,  marking  a 
cloud  gathering  on  Lord  Colambre's  countenance.  "I 
laugh  at  them,  because  I  love  them.  I  could  not  love 
anything  I  might  not  laugh  at — your  lordship  excepted. 
So  you'll  come — that's  settled." 

And  so  it  was  settled.  Our  hero  went  to  Killpatricks- 
town. 

"Everything  here  sumptuous  and  unfinished,  you  see," 
said  Lady  Dashfort  to  Lord  Colambre,  the  day  after  their 
arrival.  "All  begun  as  if  the  projectors  thought  they  had 
the  command  of  the  mines  of  Peru,  and  ended  as  if  the 
possessors  had  not  sixpence;  dcs  arrangciiiois provisatoircs, 
temporary    expedients;    in    plain     English,     makeshifts. 

112 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Luxuries,  enough  for  an  English  prince  of  the  blood ; 
comforts,  not  enough  for  an  English  woman.  And  you 
may  be  sure  that  great  repairs  and  alterations  have  gone 
on  to  fit  this  house  for  our  reception,  and  for  our  English 
eyes! — Poor  people! — English  visitors,  in  this  point  of 
view,  are  horribly  expensive  to  the  Irish.  Did  you  ever 
hear  that,  in  the  last  century,  or  in  the  century  before  the 
last,  to  put  my  story  far  enough  back,  so  that  it  shall  not 
touch  anybody  living;  when  a  certain  English  nobleman. 

Lord  Blank  A ,  sent  to  let  his  Irish  friend,  Lord  Blank 

B ,  know  that  he  and  all  his  train  were  coming  over  to 

pay  him  a  visit ;  the  Irish  nobleman.  Blank  B -,  know- 
ing the  deplorable  condition  of  his  castle,  sat  down  fairly 
to  calculate  whether  it  would  cost  him  most  to  put  the  build- 
ing in  good  and  sufificient  repair,  fit  to  receive  these  English 
visitors,  or  to  burn  it  to  the  ground.  He  found  the  bal- 
ance to  be  in  favour  of  burning,  which  was  wisely  accom- 
plished next  day.'  Perhaps  Killpatrick  would  have  done 
well  to  follow  this  example.  Resolve  me  which  is  worst, 
to  be  burnt  out  of  house  and  home,  or  to  be  eaten  out  of 
house  and  home.  In  this  house,  above  and  below  stairs, 
including  first  and  second  table,  housekeeper's  room,  lady's- 
maids'  room,  butler's  room,  and  gentleman's,  one  hundred 
and  four  people  sit  down  to  dinner  every  day,  as  Petito 
informs  me,  beside  kitchen  boys,  and  what  they  call  char- 
women — who  never  sit  down,  but  who  do  not  eat  or  waste 
the  less  for  that ;  and  retainers  and  friends,  friends  to  the 
fifth  and  sixth  generation,  who  'must  get  their  bit  and 
their  sup';  for,  'sure,  it's  only  Biddy,'  they  say,"  con- 
tinued Lady  Dashfort,  imitating  their  Irish  brogue.  ' '  'And, 
'sure,  'tis  nothing  at  all,  out  of  all  his  honour,  my  lord, 
has.  How  could  he  fed  it ! ' — Long  life  to  him  ! — He's  not 
that  way:  not  a  couple  in  all  Ireland,  and  that's  saying  a 
great  dale,  looks  less  after  their  own,  nor  is  more  off- 
handeder,  or  open-heartcder,  or  greater  open-house-keep- 
ers, nor^  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  Killpatrick.'  Now  there's 
encouragement  for  a  lord  and  a  lady  to  ruin  themselves." 

Lady  Dashfort  imitated  the  Irish  brogue  in  perfection ; 

'  Fact  !  *  J^eel  it :  become  sensible  of  it,  know  it.  ^  Nor  :  than. 

8  113 


THE  ABSENTEE 

boasted  that  "she  was  mistress  of  fourteen  different 
brogues,  and  had  brogues  for  all  occasions."  By  her  mix- 
ture of  mimicry,  sarcasm,  exaggeration,  and  truth,  she 
succeeded  continually  in  making  Lord  Colambre  laugh  at 
everything  at  which  she  wished  to  make  him  laugh ;  at 
every  thing,  but  not  every  body;  whenever  she  became 
personal,  he  became  serious,  or  at  least  endeavoured  to 
become  serious;  and  if  he  could  not  instantly  resume  the 
command  of  his  risible  muscles,  he  reproached  himself. 

"It  is  shameful  to  laugh  at  these  people,  indeed.  Lady 
Dashfort,  in  their  own  house  —  these  hospitable  people, 
who  are  entertaining  us," 

"Entertaining  us!  true,  and  if  we  are  entertained,  how 
can  we  help  laughing?  " 

All  expostulation  was  thus  turned  off  by  a  jest,  as  it  was 
her  pride  to  make  Lord  Colambre  laugh  in  spite  of  his  bet- 
ter feelings  and  principles.  This  he  saw,  and  this  seemed 
to  him  to  be  her  sole  object;  but  there  he  was  mistaken. 
Off-handed  as  she  pretended  to  be,  none  dealt  more  in  the 
impromptu  fait  h  loisir  ;  and  mentally  short-sighted  as  she 
affected  to  be,  none  had  more  longani7nity  for  their  own 
interest. 

It  was  her  settled  purpose  to  make  the  Irish  and  Ireland 
ridiculous  and  contemptible  to  Lord  Colambre;  to  disgust 
him  with  his  native  country ;  to  make  him  abandon  the 
wish  of  residing  on  his  own  estate.  To  confirm  him  an 
absentee  was  her  object  previously  to  her  ultimate  plan 
of  marrying  him  to  her  daughter.  Her  daughter  was  poor, 
she  would  therefore  be  glad  to  get  an  Irish  peer  for  her; 
but  would  be  very  sorry,  she  said,  to  see  Isabel  banished  to 
Ireland;  and  the  young  widow  declared  she  could  never 
bring  herself  to  be  buried  alive  in  Clonbrony  Castle. 

In  addition  to  these  considerations.  Lady  Dashfort  re- 
ceived certain  hints  from  Mrs.  Petito,  which  worked  all  to 
the  same  point. 

"Why,  yes,  my  lady;  I  heard  a  great  deal  about  all  that 
when  I  was  at  Lady  Clonbrony 's,"  said  Petito,  one  day,  as 
she  was  attending  at  her  lady's  toilette,  and  encouraged  to 
begin  chattering.     "And  I  own  I  was  originally  under  the 

114 


THE  ABSENTEE 

universal  error,  that  my  Lord  Colambre  was  to  be  married 
to  the  great  heiress,  Miss  Broadhurst;  but  I  have  been 
converted  and  reformed  on  that  score,  and  am  at  present 
quite  in  another  way  and  style  of  thinking." 

Petito  paused,  in  hopes  that  her  lady  would  ask,  what 
was  her  present  way  of  thinking?  But  Lady  Dashfort, 
certain  that  she  would  tell  her  without  being  asked,  did 
not  take  the  trouble  to  speak,  particularly  as  she  did  not 
choose  to  appear  violently  interested  on  the  subject. — 
"My  present  way  of  thinking,"  resumed  Petito,  "is  in 
consequence  of  my  having,  with  my  own  eyes  and  ears,  wit- 
nessed and  overheard  his  lordship's  behaviour  and  words, 
the  morning  he  was  coming  away  from  Lunnun  for  Ireland  ; 
when  he  was  morally  certain  nobody  was  up,  nor  over- 
hearing, nor  overseeing  him,  there  did  I  notice  him,  my 
lady,  stopping  in  the  antechamber,  ejaculating  over  one  of 
Miss  Nugent's  gloves,  which  he  had  picked  up.  'Limer- 
ick!' said  he,  quite  loud  to  himself;  for  it  was  a  Limerick 
glove,  my  lady, — '  Limerick ! — dear  Ireland  !  she  loves  you 
as  well  as  I  do  !  ' — or  words  to  that  effect ;  and  then  a  sigh, 
and  downstairs  and  off.  So,  thinks  I,  now  the  cat's  out  of 
the  bag.  And  I  wouldn't  give  much  myself  for  Miss 
Broadhurst's  chance  of  that  young  lord,  with  all  her  bank 
stock,  scrip,  and  omniim.  Now,  I  see  how  the  land  lies, 
and  I'm  sorry  for  it;  for  she's  no  fortin ;  and  she's  so 
proud,  she  never  said  a  hint  to  me  of  the  matter;  but  my 
Lord  Colambre  is  a  sweet  gentleman;  and " 

"Petito!  don't  run  on  so;  you  must  not  meddle  with 
what  you  don't  understand:  the  Miss  Killpatricks,  to  be 
sure,  are  sweet  girls,  particularly  the  youngest." — Her 
ladyship's  toilette  was  finished;  and  she  left  Petito  to  go 
down  to  my  Lady  Killpatrick's  woman,  to  tell,  as  a  very 
great  secret,  the  schemes  that  were  in  contemplation  among 
the  higher  powers,  in  favour  of  the  youngest  of  the  Miss 
Killpatricks. 

"So  Ireland  is  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  is  it?"  re- 
peated Lady  Dashfort  to  herself;  "it  shall  not  be  long  so." 
From  this  time  forward,  not  a  day,  scarcely  an  hour  passed, 
but  her  ladyship  did  or  said  something  to  depreciate  the 

115 


THE  ABSENTEE 

country,  or  its  inhabitants,  in  our  hero's  estimation.  With 
treacherous  ability,  she  knew  and  followed  all  the  arts  of 
misrepresentation  ;  all  those  injurious  arts  which  his  friend, 
Sir  James  Brooke,  had,  with  such  honest  indignation,  re- 
probated. She  knew  how,  not  only  to  seize  the  ridiculous 
points,  to  make  the  most  respectable  people  ridiculous,  but 
she  knew  how  to  select  the  worst  instances,  the  worst  ex- 
ceptions; and  to  produce  them  as  examples,  as  precedents, 
from  which  to  condemn  whole  classes,  and  establish  general 
false  conclusions  respecting  a  nation. 

In  the  neighbourhood  of  Killpatrickstown,  Lady  Dash- 
fort  said,  there  were  several  squireens,  or  little  squires;  a 
race  of  men  who  have  succeeded  to  the  buckeens,  described 
by  Young  and  Crumpe.  Squireens  are  persons  who,  with 
good  long  leases,  or  valuable  farms,  possess  incomes 
from  three  to  eight  hundred  a  year;  who  keep  a  pack  of 
hounds;  take  out  a  commission  of  the  peace,  sometimes 
before  they  can  spell  (as  her  ladyship  said),  and  almost 
always  before  they  know  anything  of  law  or  justice !  Busy 
and  loud  about  small  matters ;  jobbers  at  assizes  ;  combin- 
ing with  one  another,  and  trying  upon  every  occasion, 
public  or  private,  to  push  themselves  forward,  to  the  annoy- 
ance of  their  superiors,  and  the  terror  of  those  below  them. 

In  the  usual  course  of  things,  these  men  are  not  often  to 
be  found  in  the  society  of  gentry ;  except,  perhaps,  among 
those  gentlemen  or  noblemen  who  like  to  see  hangers-on 
at  their  tables;  or  who  find  it  for  their  convenience  to  have 
underling  magistrates,  to  protect  their  favourites,  or  to 
propose  and  carry  ]ohs  for  them  on  grand  juries.  At  elec- 
tion times,  however,  these  persons  rise  into  sudden  import- 
ance with  all  who  have  views  upon  the  county.  Lady 
Dashfort  hinted  to  Lord  Killpatrick,  that  her  private  letters 
from  England  spoke  of  an  approaching  dissolution  of  Par- 
liament ;  she  knew  that,  upon  this  hint,  a  round  of  invita- 
tions would  be  sent  to  the  squireens;  and  she  was  morally 
certain  that  they  would  be  more  disagreeable  to  Lord 
Colambre,  and  give  him  a  worse  idea  of  the  country,  than 
any  other  people  who  could  be  produced.  Day  after  day 
some  of  these  personages  made  their  appearance ;  and  Lady 

Ii6 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Dashfort  took  care  to  draw  them  out  upon  the  subjects  on 
which  she  knew  that  they  would  show  the  most  self-suffi- 
cient ignorance,  and  the  most  illiberal  spirit.  This  suc- 
ceeded beyond  her  most  sanguine  expectations.  "Lord 
Colambre!  how  I  pity  you,  for  being  compelled  to  these 
permanent  sittings  after  dinner!  "  said  Lady  Isabel  to  him 
one  night,  when  he  came  late  to  the  ladies  from  the  dining- 
room.  "Lord  Killpatrick  insisted  upon  my  staying  to 
help  him  to  push  about  that  never-ending,  still-beginning 
electioneering  bottle,"  said  Lord  Colambre.  "Oh  !  if  that 
were  all;  if  these  gentlemen  would  only  drink; — but  their 
conversation  !  I  don't  wonder  my  mother  dreads  returning 
to  Clonbrony  Castle,  if  my  father  must  have  such  company 
as  this.     But,  surely,  it  cannot  be  necessary." 

"Oh,  indispensable!  positively  indispensable!"  cried 
Lady  Dashfort;  "no  living  in  Ireland  without  it.  You 
know,  in  every  country  in  the  world,  you  must  live  with 
the  people  of  the  country,  or  be  torn  to  pieces ;  for  my 
part,  I  should  prefer  being  torn  to  pieces." 

Lady  Dashfort  and  Lady  Isabel  knew  how  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  contrast  between  their  own  conversation, 
and  that  of  the  persons  by  whom  Lord  Colambre  was  so 
justly  disgusted  ;  they  happily  relieved  his  fatigue  with  wit, 
satire,  poetry,  and  sentiment ;  so  that  he  every  day  became 
more  exclusively  fond  of  their  company;  for  Lady  Kill- 
patrick and  the  Miss  Killpatricks  were  mere  commonplace 
people.  In  the  mornings,  he  rode  or  walked  with  Lady 
Dashfort  and  Lady  Isabel :  Lady  Dashfort,  by  way  of  ful- 
filling her  promise  of  showing  him  the  people,  used  fre- 
quently to  take  him  into  the  cabins,  and  talk  to  their 
inhabitants.  Lord  and  Lady  Killpatrick,  who  had  lived 
always  for  the  fashionable  world,  had  taken  little  pains  to 
improve  the  condition  of  their  tenants ;  the  few  attempts 
they  had  made  were  injudicious.  They  had  built  orna- 
mented, picturesque  cottages, within  view  of  their  demesne; 
and  favourite  followers  of  the  family,  people  with  half  a 
century's  habit  of  indolence  and  dirt,  were  promoted  to 
these  fine  dwellings.  The  consequences  were  such  as 
Lady  Dashfort  delighted  to  point  out ;  everything  let  to 

117 


THE  ABSENTEE 

go  to  ruin  for  the  want  of  a  moment's  care,  or  pulled  to 
pieces  for  the  sake  of  the  most  trifling  surreptitious  profit ; 
the  people  most  assisted  always  appearing  proportionally- 
wretched  and  discontented.  No  one  could,  with  more 
ease  and  more  knowledge  of  her  ground,  than  Lady  Dash- 
fort,  do  the  dishonour  of  a  country.  In  every  cabin  that 
she  entered,  by  the  first  glance  of  her  eye  at  the  head, 
kerchiefed  in  no  comely  guise,  or  by  the  drawn-down  corners 
of  the  mouth,  or  by  the  bit  of  a  broken  pipe,  which  in  Ire- 
land never  characterises  stout  labour,  or  by  the  first  sound 
of  the  voice,  the  drawling  accent  on  "your  honour,"  or, 
"my  lady,"  she  could  distinguish  the  proper  objects  of  her 
charitable  designs,  that  is  to  say,  those  of  the  old  unedu- 
cated race,  whom  no  one  can  help,  because  they  will  never 
help  themselves.  To  these  she  constantly  addressed  her^ 
self,  making  them  give,  in  all  their  despairing  tones,  a 
history  of  their  complaints  and  grievances;  then  asking 
them  questions,  aptly  contrived  to  expose  their  habits  of 
self-contradiction,  their  servility  and  flattery  one  moment, 
and  their  litigious  and  encroaching  spirit  the  next:  thus 
giving  Lord  Colambre  the  most  unfavourable  idea  of  the 
disposition  and  character  of  the  lower  class  of  the  Irish 
people. 

Lady  Isabel  the  while  stood  by,  with  the  most  amiable 
air  of  pity,  with  expressions  of  the  finest  moral  sensi- 
bility, softening  all  her  mother  said,  finding  ever  some 
excuse  for  the  poor  creatures,  and  following  with  angelic 
sweetness  to  heal  the  wounds  her  mother  inflicted. 

When  Lady  Dashfort  thought  she  had  sufficiently  worked 
upon  Lord  Colambre's  mind  to  weaken  his  enthusiasm  for 
his  native  country,  and  when  Lady  Isabel  had,  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  every  virtue,  added  to  a  delicate  preference,  if 
not  partiality,  for  our  hero,  ingratiated  herself  into  his  good 
opinion  and  obtained  an  interest  in  his  mind,  the  wily 
mother  ventured  an  attack  of  a  more  decisive  nature;  and 
so  contrived  it  was,  that,  if  it  failed,  it  should  appear  to 
have  been  made  without  design  to  injure,  and  in  total 
ignorance. 

One  day.  Lady  Dashfort,  who  in  fact  was  not  proud  of 

ii8 


THE  ABSENTEE 

her  family,  though  she  pretended  to  be  so,  had  herself  pre- 
vailed on,  though  with  much  difficulty,  by  Lady  Kill- 
patrick,  to  do  the  very  thing  she  wanted  to  do,  to  show 
her  genealogy,  which  had  been  beautifully  blazoned,  and 
which  was  to  be  produced  as  evidence  in  the  lawsuit  that 
brought  her  to  Ireland.  Lord  Colambre  stood  politely 
looking  on  and  listening,  while  her  ladyship  explained  the 
splendid  inter-marriages  of  her  family,  pointing  to  each 
medallion  that  was  filled  gloriously  with  noble,  and  even 
with  royal  names,  till  at  last  she  stopped  short,  and  cover- 
ing one  medallion  with  her  finger,  she  said — 

"Pass  over  that,  dear  Lady  Killpatrick.  You  are  not  to 
see  that,  Lord  Colambre — that's  a  little  blot  in  our  scut- 
cheon. You  know,  Isabel,  we  never  talk  of  that  prudent 
match  of  great-uncle  John's;  what  could  he  expect  by 
marrying  into  tJiat  family,  where  you  know  all  the  men 
were  not  sans peur,  and  none  of  the  women  sans  reproche." 

' '  Oh  mamma ! ' '  cried  Lady  Isabel,  '  *  not  one  exception  ? ' ' 

"Not  one,  Isabel,"  persisted  Lady  Dashfort ;  "there  was 

Lady ,  and  the  other  sister,  that  married  the  man  with 

the  long  nose;  and  the  daughter  again,  of  whom  they  con- 
trived to  make  an  honest  woman,  by  getting  her  married  in 
time  to  a  blnc-ribband,  and  who  contrived  to  get  herself 
into  Doctors'  Commons  the  very  next  year." 

"Well,  dear  mamma,  that  is  enough,  and  too  much. 
Oh!  pray  don't  go  on,"  cried  Lady  Isabel,  who  had  ap- 
peared very  much  distressed  during  her  mother's  speech. 
"You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying;  indeed,  ma'am, 
you  don't." 

"Very  likely,  child;  but  that  compliment  I  can  return 
to  you  on  the  spot,  and  with  interest ;  for  you  seem  to  me, 
at  this  instant,  not  to  know  either  what  you  are  saying  or 
what  you  are  doing.     Come,  come,  explain." 

"Oh  no,  ma'am — Pray  say  so  no  more;  I  will  explain 
myself  another  time." 

"Nay,  there  you  are  wrong,  Isabel;  in  point  of  good- 
breeding,  anything  is  better  than  hints  and  mystery. 
Since  I  have  been  so  unlucky  as  to  touch  upon  the  sub- 
ject, better  go  through  with  it,  and,  with  all  the  boldness 

119 


THE  ABSENTEE 

of  innocence,  ask  the  question,  Are  you,  my  Lord  Colam- 
bre,  or  are  you  not,  related  or  connected  with  any  of  the 
St.  Omars?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Lord  Colambre;  "but  I 
really  am  so  bad  a  genealogist,  that  I  cannot  answer 
positively." 

"Then  I  must  put  the  substance  of  my  question  into  a 
new  form.  Have  you,  or  have  you  not,  a  cousin  of  the 
name  of  Nugent? " 

"Miss  Nugent!  —  Grace  Nugent!  —  Yes,"  said  Lord 
Colambre,  with  as  much  firmness  of  voice  as  he  could  com- 
mand, and  with  as  little  change  of  countenance  as  possible  ; 
but,  as  the  question  came  upon  him  so  unexpectedly,  it 
was  not  in  his  power  to  answer  with  an  air  of  absolute 
indifference  and  composure. 

"And  her  mother  was "  said  Lady  Dashfort. 

"My  aunt,  by  marriage;  her  maiden  name  was  Rey- 
nolds, I  think.  But  she  died  v/hen  I  was  quite  a  child. 
I  know  very  little  about  her.  I  never  saw  her  in  my  life ; 
but  I  am  certain  she  was  a  Reynolds." 

"Oh,  my  dear  lord,"  continued  Lady  Dashfort;  "I  am 
perfectly  aware  that  she  did  take  and  bear  the  name  of 
Reynolds ;  but  that  was  not  her  maiden  name — her  maiden 

name  was ;  but  perhaps  it  is  a  family  secret  that  has 

been  kept,  for  some  good  reason,  from  you,  and  from  the 
poor  girl  herself;  the  maiden  name  was  St.  Omar,  depend 
upon  it.  Nay,  I  would  not  have  told  this  to  you,  my  lord, 
if  I  could  have  conceived  that  it  would  affect  you  so  vio- 
lently," pursued  Lady  Dashfort,  in  a  tone  of  raillery; 
"you  see  you  are  no  worse  off  than  we  are.  We  have  an 
intermarriage  with  the  St.  Omars.  I  did  not  think  you 
would  be  so  much  shocked  at  a  discovery,  which  proves 
that  our  family  and  yours  have  some  little  connexion." 

Lord  Colambre  endeavoured  to  answer,  and  mechanically 
said  something  about,  "happy  to  have  the  honour. "  Lady 
Dashfort,  truly  happy  to  see  that  her  blow  had  hit  the 
mark  so  well,  turned  from  his  lordship  without  seeming  to 
observe  how  seriously  he  was  affected ;  and  Lady  Isabel 
sighed,  and  looked  with  compassion  on  Lord  Colambre, 

1 20 


THE  ABSENTEE 

and  then  reproachfully  at  her  mother.  But  Lord  Colam- 
bre  heeded  not  her  looks,  and  heard  not  her  sighs;  he 
heard  nothing,  saw  nothing,  though  his  eyes  were  intently 
fixed  on  the  genealogy,  on  which  Lady  Dashfort  was  still 
descanting  to  Lady  Killpatrick.  He  took  the  first  oppor- 
tunity he  could  of  quitting  the  room,  and  went  out  to  take 
a  solitary  walk. 

"There  he  is,  departed,  but  not  in  peace,  to  reflect  upon 
what  has  been  said,"  whispered  Lady  Dashfort  to  her 
daughter.     "I  hope  it  will  do  him  a  vast  deal  of  good." 

"None  of  the  women  sans  reproche  !  None! — without 
one  exception,"  said  Lord  Colambre  to  himself;  "and 
Grace  Nugent's  mother  a  St.  Omar ! — Is  it  possible?  Lady 
Dashfort  seems  certain.  She  could  not  assert  a  positive 
falsehood — no  motive.  She  does  not  know  that  Miss  Nu- 
gent is  the  person  to  whom  I  am  attached — she  spoke  at 
random.  And  I  have  heard  it  first  from  a  stranger — not 
from  my  mother.  Why  was  it  kept  secret  from  me?  Now 
I  understand  the  reason  why  my  mother  evidently  never 
wished  that  I  should  think  of  Miss  Nugent — why  she 
always  spoke  so  vehemently  against  the  marriages  of  rela- 
tions, of  cousins.  Why  not  tell  me  the  truth?  It  would 
have  had  the  strongest  effect,  had  she  known  my  mind." 

Lord  Colambre  had  the  greatest  dread  of  marrying  any 
woman  whose  mother  had  conducted  herself  ill.  His 
reason,  his  prejudices,  his  pride,  his  delicacy,  and  even  his 
limited  experience,  were  all  against  it.  All  his  hopes,  his 
plans  of  future  happiness,  were  shaken  to  their  very  founda- 
tion ;  he  felt  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow  that  stunned  his 
mind,  and  from  which  he  could  not  recover  his  faculties. 
The  whole  of  that  day  he  was  like  one  in  a  dream.  At 
night  the  painful  idea  continually  recurred  to  him ;  and 
whenever  he  was  falling  asleep,  the  sound  of  Lady  Dash- 
fort's  voice  returned  upon  his  ear,  saying  the  words, 
"What  could  he  expect  when  he  married  one  of  the  St. 
Omars?     None  of  the  women  sans  reproche.'' 

In  the  morning  he  rose  early ;  and  the  first  thing  he  did 
was  to  write  a  letter  to  his  mother,  requesting  (unless  there 
was  some  important  reason  for  her  declining  to  answer  the 

121 


THE  ABSENTEE 

question)  that  she  would  immediately  relieve  his  mind  from 
a  great  luieasiness  (he  altered  the  word  four  times,  but  at 
last  left  it  uneasiness).  He  stated  what  he  had  heard,  and 
besought  his  mother  to  tell  him  the  whole  truth,  without 
reserve.  

CHAPTER   Vni. 

ONE  morning  Lady  Dashfort  had  formed  an  ingenious 
scheme  for  leaving  Lady  Isabel  and  Lord  Colambre 
tetc-a-tete ;  but  the  sudden  entrance  of  Heathcock 
disconcerted  her  intentions.  He  came  to  beg  Lady  Dash- 
fort's  interest  with  Count  O'Halloran,  for  permission  to 
hunt  and  shoot  on  his  grounds. — "Not  for  myself,  'pon 
honour,  but  for  two  ofificers  who  are  quartered  at  the  next 
town  here,  who  will  indubitably  hang  or  drown  themselves 
if  they  are  debarred  from  sporting." 

"Who  is  this  Count  O'Halloran?"  said  Lord  Colambre. 
Miss  White,  Lady  Killpatrick's  companion,  said  "he  was 
a  great  oddity  "  ;  Lady  Dashfort,  "that  he  was  singular"  ; 
and  the  clergyman  of  the  parish,  who  was  at  breakfast, 
declared  "that  he  was  a  man  of  uncommon  knowledge, 
merit,  and  politeness." 

"All  I  know  of  him,"  said  Heathcock,  "is,  that  he  is  a 
great  sportsman,  with  a  long  queue,  a  gold-laced  hat,  and 
long  skirts  to  a  laced  waistcoat."  Lord  Colambre  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  see  this  extraordinary  personage ;  and 
Lady  Dashfort,  to  cover  her  former  design,  and,  perhaps, 
thinking  absence  might  be  as  effectual  as  too  much  propin- 
quity, immediately  offered  to  call  upon  the  officers  in  their 
way,  and  carry  them  with  Heathcock  and  Lord  Colambre 
to  Halloran  Castle. 

Lady  Isabel  retired  with  much  mortification,  but  with 
becoming  grace ;  and  Captain  Benson  and  Captain  William- 
son were  taken  to  the  count's.  Captain  Benson,  who  was 
a  famous  whip,  took  his  seat  on  the  box  of  the  barouche, 
and  the  rest  of  the  party  had  the  pleasure  of  her  ladyship's 
conversation  for  three  or  four  miles:  of  her  ladyship's  con- 
versation— for  Lord  Colambre's  thoughts  were  far  distant; 

122 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Captain  Williamson  had  not  anything  to  say ;  and  Heath- 
cock  nothing  but,  "Eh!  re'lly  now! — 'pon  honour!" 

They  arrived  at  Halloran  Castle— a  fine  old  building, 
part  of  it  in  ruins,  and  part  repaired  with  great  judgment 
and  taste.  When  the  carriage  stopped,  a  respectable- 
looking  man-servant  appeared  on  the  steps,  at  the  open 
hall-door. 

Count  O' Halloran  was  out  a-hunting;  but  his  servant 
said  "that  he  would  be  at  home  immediately,  if  Lady 
Dashfort  and  the  gentlemen  would  be  pleased  to  walk  in." 

On  one  side  of  the  lofty  and  spacious  hall  stood  the 
skeleton  of  an  elk;  on  the  other  side,  the  perfect  skeleton 
of  a  moose-deer,  which,  as  the  servant  said,  his  master  had 
made  out,  with  great  care,  from  the  different  bones  of 
many  of  this  curious  species  of  deer,  found  in  the  lakes  in 
the  neighbourhood.  The  brace  of  of^cers  witnessed  their 
wonder  with  sundry  strange  oaths  and  exclamations. — 
"Eh!  'pon  honour — re'lly  now!"  said  Heathcock;  and, 
too  genteel  to  wonder  at  or  admire  anything  in  the  creation, 
dragged  out  his  watch  with  some  difificulty,  saying,  "I 
wonder  now  whether  they  are  likely  to  think  of  giving  us 
anything  to  eat  in  this  place?"  And,  turning  his  back 
upon  the  moose-deer,  he  straight  walked  out  again  upon 
the  steps,  called  to  his  groom,  and  began  to  make  some 
inquiry  about  his  led  horse.  Lord  Colambre  surveyed  the 
prodigious  skeletons  with  rational  curiosity,  and  with  that 
sense  of  awe  and  admiration,  by  which  a  superior  mind  is 
always  struck  on  beholding  any  of  the  great  works  of 
Providence. 

"Come,  my  dear  lord  !  "  said  Lady  Dashfort ;  "with  our 
sublime  sensations,  we  are  keeping  my  old  friend,  Mr. 
Alick  Brady,  this  venerable  person,  waiting,  to  show  us 
into  the  reception-room." 

The  servant  bowed  respectfully — more  respectfully  than 
servants  of  modern  date. 

"My  lady,  the  reception-room  has  been  lately  painted — 
the  smell  of  paint  may  be  disagreeable ;  with  your  leave,  I 
will  take  the  liberty  of  showing  you  into  my  master's 
study." 

123 


THE  ABSENTEE 

He  opened  the  door,  went  in  before  her,  and  stood  hold- 
ing up  his  finger,  as  if  making  a  signal  of  silence  to  some 
one  within.  Her  ladyship  entered,  and  found  herself  in 
the  midst  of  an  odd  assembly :  an  eagle,  a  goat,  a  dog,  an 
otter,  several  gold  and  silver  fish  in  a  glass  globe,  and  a 
white  mouse  in  a  cage.  The  eagle,  quick  of  eye  but  quiet 
of  demeanour,  was  perched  upon  his  stand ;  the  otter  lay 
under  the  table,  perfectly  harmless;  the  Angora  goat,  a 
beautiful  and  remarkably  little  creature  of  its  kind,  with 
long,  curling,  silky  hair,  was  walking  about  the  room  with 
the  air  of  a  beauty  and  a  favourite ;  the  dog,  a  tall  Irish 
greyhound — one  of  the  few  of  that  fine  race'which  is  now 
almost  extinct — had  been  given  to  Count  O'Halloran  by 
an  Irish  nobleman,  a  relation  of  Lady  Dashfort's.  This 
dog,  who  had  formerly  known  her  ladyship,  looked  at  her 
with  ears  erect,  recognised  her,  and  went  to  meet  her  the 
moment  she  entered.  The  servant  answered  for  the  peace- 
able behaviour  of  all  the  rest  of  the  company  of  animals, 
and  retired.  Lady  Dashfort  began  to  feed  the  eagle  from 
a  silver  plate  on  his  stand ;  Lord  Colambre  examined  the 
inscription  on  his  collar ;  the  other  men  stood  in  amaze. 
Heathcock,  who  came  in  last,  astonished  out  of  his  con- 
stant "Eh!  re'lly  now!  "  the  moment  he  put  himself  in  at 
the  door,  exclaimed,  "Zounds!  what's  all  this  live  lum- 
ber?" and  he  stumbled  over  the  goat,  who  was  at  that 
moment  crossing  the  way.  The  colonel's  spur  caught  in 
the  goat's  curly  beard;  the  colonel  shook  his  foot,  and 
entangled  the  spur  worse  and  worse;  the  goat  struggled 
and  butted ;  the  colonel  skated  forward  on  the  polished 
oak  floor,  balancing  himself  with  outstretched  arms. 

The  indignant  eagle  screamed,  and,  passing  by,  perched 
on  Heathcock's  shoulders.  Too  well-bred  to  have  recourse 
to  the  terrors  of  his  beak,  he  scrupled  not  to  scream,  and 
flap  his  wings  about  the  colonel's  ears.  Lady  Dashfort, 
the  while,  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair,  laughing,  and 
begging  Heathcock's  pardon.  "Oh,  take  care  of  the  dog, 
my  dear  colonel!  "  cried  she;  "for  this  kind  of  dog  seizes 
his  enemy  by  the  back,  and  shakes  him  to  death."  The 
of^ccrs,  holding  their  sides,  laughed,  and  begged — no  par- 

124 


THE  ABSENTEE 

don ;  while  Lord  Colambre,  the  only  person  who  was  not 
absolutely  incapacitated,  tried  to  disentangle  the  spur,  and 
to  liberate  the  colonel  from  the  goat,  and  the  goat  from 
the  colonel;  an  attempt  in  which  he  at  last  succeeded,  at 
the  expense  of  a  considerable  portion  of  the  goat's  beard. 
The  eagle,  however,  still  kept  his  place;  and,  yet  mindful 
of  the  wrongs  of  his  insulted  friend  the  goat,  had  stretched 
his  wings  to  give  another  buffet.  Count  O'Halloran  en- 
tered; and  the  bird,  quitting  his  prey,  flew  down  to  greet 
his  master.  The  count  was  a  fine  old  military-looking 
gentleman,  fresh  from  the  chace:  his  hunting  accoutre- 
ments hanging  carelessly  about  him,  he  advanced,  unem- 
barrassed, to  the  lady ;  and  received  his  other  guests  with 
a  mixture  of  military  ease  and  gentleman-like  dignity. 

Without  adverting  to  the  awkward  and  ridiculous  situa- 
tion in  which  he  had  found  poor  Heathcock,  he  apologised 
in  general  for  his  troublesome  favourites.  "For  one  of 
them,"  said  he,  patting  the  head  of  the  dog,  which  lay 
quiet  at  Lady  Dashfort's  feet,  "I  see  I  have  no  need  to 
apologise ;  he  is  where  he  ought  to  be.  Poor  fellow !  he 
has  never  lost  his  taste  for  the  good  company  to  which  he 
was  early  accustomed.  As  to  the  rest,"  said  he,  turning 
to  Lady  Dashfort,  "a  mouse,  a  bird,  and  a  fish,  are,  you 
know,  tribute  from  earth,  air,  and  water,  for  my  con- 
queror  " 

"But  from  no  barbarous  Scythian!  "  said  Lord  Colam- 
bre, smiling.  The  count  looked  at  Lord  Colambre,  as  at 
a  person  worthy  his  attention ;  but  his  first  care  was  to 
keep  the  peace  between  his  loving  subjects  and  his  foreign 
visitors.  It  was  difficult  to  dislodge  the  old  settlers,  to 
make  room  for  the  newcomers;  but  he  adjusted  these 
things  with  admirable  facility;  and,  with  a  master's  hand 
and  master's  eye,  compelled  each  favourite  to  retreat  into 
the  back  settlements.  With  becoming  attention,  he  stroked 
and  kept  quiet  old  Victory,  his  eagle,  who  eyed  Colonel 
Heathcock  still,  as  if  he  did  not  like  him;  and  whom  the 
colonel  eyed,  as  if  he  wished  his  neck  fairly  wrung  off. 
The  little  goat  had  nestled  himself  close  up  to  his  liberator. 
Lord  Colambre,  and  lay  perfectly  quiet,    with   his   eyes 

125 


THE  ABSENTEE 

closed,  going  very  wisely  to  sleep,  and  submitting  philo- 
sophically to  the  loss  of  one  half  of  his  beard.  Conversation 
now  commenced,  and  was  carried  on  by  Count  O'Halloran 
with  much  ability  and  spirit,  and  with  such  quickness  of 
discrimination  and  delicacy  of  taste,  as  quite  surprised  and 
delighted  our  hero.  To  the  lady,  the  count's  attention 
was  first  directed  :  he  listened  to  her  as  she  spoke,  bending 
with  an  air  of  deference  and  devotion.  She  made  her 
request  for  permission  for  Major  Benson  and  Captain  Wil- 
liamson to  hunt  and  shoot  in  his  grounds ;  this  was  instantly 
granted. 

"Her  ladyship's  requests  were  to  him  commands,"  the 
count  said.  "His  gamekeeper  should  be  instructed  to  give 
the  gentlemen,  her  friends,  every  liberty,  and  all  possible 
assistance." 

Then  turning  to  the  officers,  he  said  he  had  just  heard 
that  several  regiments  of  English  militia  had  lately  landed 
in  Ireland ;  that  one  regiment  was  arrived  at  Killpatricks- 
town.  He  rejoiced  in  the  advantages  Ireland,  and  he  hoped 
he  might  be  permitted  to  add,  England,  would  probably 
derive  from  the  exchange  of  the  militia  of  both  countries; 
habits  would  be  improved,  ideas  enlarged.  The  two  coun- 
tries have  the  same  interest ;  and,  from  the  inhabitants 
discovering  more  of  each  other's  good  qualities,  and  inter- 
changing little  good  offices  in  common  life,  their  esteem 
and  affection  for  each  other  would  increase,  and  rest  upon 
the  firm  basis  of  mutual  utility." 

To  all  this  Major  Benson  and  Captain  Williamson  made 
no  reply. 

"The  major  looks  so  like  a  stuffed  man  of  straw,"  whis- 
pered Lady  Dashfort  to  Lord  Colambre;  "and  the  captain 
so  like  the  knave  of  clubs,  putting  forth  one  manly  leg." 

Count  O'Halloran  now  turned  the  conversation  to  field 
sports,  and  then  the  captain  and  major  opened  at  once. 

"Pray  now,  sir?  "  said  the  major,  "you  fox-hunt  in  this 
country,  I  suppose;  and  now  do  you  manage  the  thing 
here  as  we  do?  Over  night,  you  know,  before  the  hunt, 
when  the  fox  is  out,  stopping  up  the  earths  of  the  cover  we 
mean  to  draw,  and  all  the  rest  for  four  miles  round.     Next 

126 


THE  ABSENTEE 

morning  we  assemble  at  the  cover's  side,  and  the  huntsman 
throws  in  the  hounds.  The  gossip  here  is  no  small  part  of 
the  entertainment ;  but  as  soon  as  we  hear  the  hounds  give 
tongue " 

"The  favourite  hounds,"  interposed  Williamson. 

"The  favourite  hounds,  to  be  sure,"  continued  Benson; 
"there  is  a  dead  silence,  till  pug  is  well  out  of  cover,  and 
the  whole  pack  well  in ;  then  cheer  the  hounds  with  tally- 
ho  !  till  your  lungs  crack.  Away  he  goes  in  gallant  style, 
and  the  whole  field  is  hard  up,  till  pug  takes  a  stiff  country  ; 
then  they  who  haven't  pluck  lag,  see  no  more  of  him,  and, 
with  a  fine  blazing  scent,  there  are  but  few  of  us  in  at  the 
death." 

"Well,  we  are  fairly  in  at  the  death,  I  hope,"  said  Lady 
Dashfort;  "I  was  thrown  out  sadly  at  one  time  in  the 
chace." 

Lord  Colambre,  with  the  count's  permission,  took  up  a 
book  in  which  the  count's  pencil  lay,  Pasley  on  the  Military 
Policy  of  Great  Britain  ;  it  was  marked  with  many  notes  of 
admiration,  and  with  hands  pointing  to  remarkable  passages. 

"That  is  a  book  that  leaves  a  strong  impression  on  the 
mind,"  said  the  count. 

Lord  Colambre  read  one  of  the  marked  passages,  begin- 
ning with,  "All  that  distinguishes  a  soldier  in  outward 

appearance  from  a  citizen  is  so  trifling "  but  at  this 

instant  our  hero's  attention  was  distracted  by  seeing  in  a 
black-letter  book  this  title  of  a  chapter: 

"Burial-place  of  the  Nugents." 

"Pray  now,  sir,"  said  Captain  Williamson,  "if  I  don't 
interrupt  you,  as  you  are  such  a  famous  fox-hunter, 
maybe,  you  may  be  a  fisherman  too ;  and  now  in  Ireland 
do  you,  Mr. " 

A  smart  pinch  on  his  elbow  from  his  major,  who  stood 
behind  him.  stopped  the  captain  short,  as  he  pronounced 
the  word  Mr.  Like  all  awkward  people,  he  turned  directly 
to  ask,  by  his  looks,  what  was  the  matter? 

The  major  took  advantage  of  his  discomfiture,  and,  step- 
ping before  him,  determined  to  have  the  fishing  to  himself, 
and  went  on  with — 

127 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Count  O'Halloran,  I  presume  you  understand  fishing 
too,  as  well  as  hunting?  " 

The  count  bowed:  "I  do  not  presume  to  say  that,  sir." 

"But  pray,  count,  in  this  country,  do  you  arm  your 
hook  this  ways?  Give  me  leave";  taking  the  whip  from 
Williamson's  reluctant  hand — "this  ways,  laying  the  outer- 
most part  of  your  feather  this  fashion  next  to  your  hook, 
and  the  point  next  to  your  shank,  this  wise,  and  that  wise; 
and  then,  sir, — count,  you  take  the  hackle  of  a  cock's 
neck " 

"A  plover's  topping's  better,"  said  Williamson. 

"And  work  your  gold  and  silver  thread,"  pursued  Ben- 
son, "up  to  your  wings,  and  when  your  head's  made,  you 
fasten  all." 

"But  you  never  showed  how  your  head's  made,"  inter- 
rupted Williamson. 

"The  gentleman  knows  how  a  head's  made;  any  man 
can  make  a  head,  I  suppose;  so,  sir,  you  fasten  all." 

"You'll  never  get  your  head  fast  on  that  way,  while  the 
world  stands,"  cried  Williamson. 

"Fast  enough  for  all  purposes;  I'll  bet  you  a  rump  and 
dozen,  captain ;  and  then,  sir, — count,  you  divide  your 
wings  with  a  needle." 

"A  pin's  point  will  do,"  said  Williamson. 

The  count,  to  reconcile  matters,  produced  from  an  In- 
dian cabinet,  which  he  had  opened  for  the  lady's  inspection, 
a  little  basket  containing  a  variety  of  artificial  flies  of  curious 
construction,  which,  as  he  spread  them  on  the  table,  made 
Williamson's  and  Benson's  eyes  almost  sparkle  with  delight. 
There  was  the  dwi-fly,  for  the  month  of  March ;  and  the 
stone-fly,  much  in  vogue  for  April ;  and  the  ruddy-fly,  of 
red  wool,  black  silk,  and  red  capon's  feathers. 

Lord  Colambre,  whose  head  was  in  the  burial-place  of 
the  Nugents,  wished  them  all  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

"And  the  green-fly,  and  the  moorisJi-fly  !  "  cried  Benson, 
snatching  them  up  with  transport;  "and,  chief,  the  sad- 
yellow-fly,  in  which  the  fish  delight  in  June;  the  sad-yellow- 
fly,  made  with  the  buzzard's  wings,  bound  with  black 
braked  hemp,  and  the  shell-fly,   for  the  middle  of  July, 

128 


THE  ABSENTEE 

made  of  greenish  wool,  wrapped  about  with  the  herle  of  a 
peacock's  tail,  famous  for  creating  excellent  sport."  All 
these  and  more  were  spread  upon  the  table  before  the 
sportsmen's  wondering  eyes. 

"Capital  flies!  capital,  faith!"  cried  Williamson. 

"Treasures,  faith,  real  treasures,  by  G — !  "  cried  Benson. 

"Eh!  'pon  honour!  re'lly  now,"  were  the  first  words 
which  Heathcock  had  uttered  since  his  battle  with  the  goat. 

"My  dear  Heathcock,  are  you  alive  still?"  said  Lady 
Dashfort;  "I  had  really  forgotten  your  existence." 

So  had  Count  O'Halloran,  but  he  did  not  say  so. 

"Your  ladyship  has  the  advantage  of  me  there,"  said 
Heathcock,  stretching  himself;  "I  wish  I  could  forget  my 
existence,  for,  in  my  mind,  existence  is  a  horrible  bore.'' 

"I  thought  you  ivas  a  sportsman,"  said  Williamson. 

"Well,  sir?" 

"And  a  fisherman? " 

"Well,  sir?" 

"Why,  look  you  there,  sir,"  pfointing  to  the  flies,  "and 
tell  a  body  life's  a  bore." 

"One  can't  ahvays  fish,  or  shoot,  I  apprehend,  sir,"  said 
Heathcock. 

"Not  always — but  sometimes,"  said  Williamson,  laugh- 
ing; "for  I  suspect  shrewdly  you've  forgot  some  of  your 
sporting  in  Bond  Street." 

"Eh!  'pon  honour!  re'lly  now!"  said  the  colonel,  re- 
treating again  to  his  safe  entrenchment  of  affectation,  from 
which  he  never  could  venture  without  imminent  danger. 

"  'Pon  honour,"  cried  Lady  Dashfort,  "I  can  swear  for 
Heathcock,  that  I  have  eaten  excellent  hares  and  ducks 
of  his  shooting,  which,  to  my  knowledge,"  added  she,  in 
a  loud  whisper,  "he  bought  in  the  market." 

'' Emptiun  apruni  !  "  said  Lord  Colambre  to  the  count, 
without  danger  of  being  understood  by  those  whom  it 
concerned. 

The  count  smiled  a  second  time;  but  politely  turning 
the  attention  of  the  company  from  the  unfortunate  colonel 
by  addressing  himself  to  the  laughing  sportsmen,  "Gentle- 
men, you  seem  to  value  these,"   said  he,  sweeping  the 

9  129 


THE  ABSENTEE 

artificial  flies  from  the  table  into  the  little  basket  from 
which  they  had  been  taken  ;  "would  you  do  me  the  honour 
to  accept  of  them?  They  are  all  of  my  own  making,  and 
consequently  of  Irish  manufacture."  Then,  ringing  the 
bell,  he  asked  Lady  Dashfort's  permission  to  have  the 
basket  put  into  her  carriage. 

Benson  and  Williamson  followed  the  servant,  to  prevent 
them  from  being  tossed  into  the  boot.  Heathcock  stood 
still  in  the  middle  of  the  room  taking  snuff. 

Count  O'Halloran  turned  from  him  to  Lord  Colambre, 
who  had  just  got  happily  to  the  burial-place  of  the  Nugetits, 
when  Lady  Dashfort,  coming  between  them,  and  spying 
the  title  of  the  chapter,  exclaimed — 

"What  have  you  there? — Antiquities!  my  delight! — but 
I  never  look  at  engravings  when  I  can  see  realities." 

Lord  Colambre  was  then  compelled  to  follow,  as  she  led 
the  way  into  the  hall,  where  the  count  took  down  golden 
ornaments,  and  brass-headed  spears,  and  jointed  horns  of 
curious  workmanship,  that  had  been  found  on  his  estate ; 
and  he  told  of  spermaceti  wrapped  in  carpets,  and  he 
showed  small  urns,  enclosing  ashes ;  and  from  among  these 
urns  he  selected  one,  which  he  put  into  the  hands  of  Lord 
Colambre,  telling  him  that  it  had  been  lately  found  in  an 
old  abbey-ground  in  his  neighbourhood,  which  had  been 
the  burial-place  of  some  of  the  Nugent  family. 

"I  was  just  looking  at  the  account  of  it,  in  the  book 
which  you  saw  open  on  my  table.— And  as  you  seem  to 
take  an  interest  in  that  family,  my  lord,  perhaps,"  said  the 
count,  "you  may  think  this  urn  worth  your  acceptance." 

Lord  Colambre  said,  "It  would  be  highly  valuable  to 
him — as  the  Nugents  were  his  near  relations." 

Lady  Dashfort  little  expected  this  blow;  she,  however, 
carried  him  off  to  the  moose-deer,  and  from  moose-deer  to 
round-towers,  to  various  architectural  antiquities,  and  to 
the  real  and  fabulous  history  of  Ireland,  on  all  which  the 
count  spoke  with  learning  and  enthusiasm.  But  now,  to 
Colonel  Ileathcock's  great  joy  and  relief,  a  handsome  col- 
lation appeared  in  the  dining-room,  of  which  Alick  opened 
the  folding-doors. 

130 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Count,  you  have  made  an  excellent  house  of  your 
castle,"  said  Lady  Dashfort. 

"It  will  be,  when  it  is  finished,"  said  the  count.  "I 
am  afraid,"  added  he,  smiling,  "I  live  like  many  other 
Irish  gentlemen,  who  never  are,  but  are  always  to  be,  blest 
with  a  good  house.  I  began  on  too  large  a  scale,  and  can 
never  hope  to  live  to  finish  it." 

'Pon  honour!  here's  a  good  thing,  which  I  hope  we 
shall  live  to  finish,"  said  Heathcock,  sitting  down  before 
the  collation ;  and  heartily  did  he  eat  of  grouse  pie,  and  of 
Irish  ortolans,  which,  as  Lady  Dashfort  observed,  "afforded 
him  indemnity  for  the  past,  and  security  for  the  future." 

"Eh!  re'lly  now!  your  Irish  ortolans  are  famous  good 
eating,"  said  Heathcock. 

"Worth  being  quartered  in  Ireland,  faith!  to  taste  'em," 
said  Benson. 

The  count  recommended  to  Lady  Dashfort  some  of 
"that  delicate  sweetmeat,  the  Irish  plum." 

"Bless  me,  sir — count!"  cried  Williamson,  "it's  by  far 
the  best  thing  of  the  kind  I  ever  tasted  in  all  my  life  :  where 
could  you  get  this?  " 

"In  Dublin,  at  my  dear  Mrs.  Godey's;  where  only,  in 
his  Majesty's  dominions,  it  is  to  be  had,"  said  the  count. 
The  whole  dish  vanished  in  a  few  seconds. — "'Pon  honour! 
I  do  believe  this  is  the  thing  the  queen's  so  fond  of,"  said 
Heathcock. 

Then  heartily  did  he  drink  of  the  count's  excellent 
Hungarian  wines;  and,  by  the  common  bond  of  sympathy 
between  those  who  have  no  other  tastes  but  eating  and 
drinking,  the  colonel,  the  major,  and  the  captain  were  now 
all  the  best  companions  possible  for  one  another. 

Whilst  "they  prolonged  the  rich  repast,"  Lady  Dashfort 
and  Lord  Colambre  went  to  the  window  to  admire  the 
prospect;  Lady  Dashfort  asked  the  count  the  name  of 
some  distant  hill. 

"Ah!  "  said  the  count,  "that  hill  was  once  covered  with 
fine  wood;  but  it  was  all  cut  down  two  years  ago." 

"Who  could  have  been  so  cruel?  "  said  her  ladyship. 

"I  forget  the  present  proprietor's  name,"  said  the  count; 

131 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"but  he  is  one  of  those  who,  according  to  the  clause  of 
distress  in  their  leases,  lead,  drive,  and  carry  away,  but 
never  enter  their  lands;  one  of  those  enemies  to  Ireland — 
those  cruel  absentees!"  Lady  Dashfort  looked  through 
her  glass  at  the  mountain ; — Lord  Colambre  sighed,  and, 
endeavouring  to  pass  it  off  with  a  smile,  said  frankly  to  the 
count — 

"You  are  not  aware,  I  am  sure,  count,  that  you  are 
speaking  to  the  son  of  an  Irish  absentee  family. — Nay,  do 
not  be  shocked,  my  dear  sir;  I  tell  you  only,  because 
I  thought  it  fair  to  do  so;  but  let  me  assure  you,  that 
nothing  you  could  say  on  that  subject  could  hurt  me  per- 
sonally, because  I  feel  that  I  am  not,  that  I  never  can  be, 
an  enemy  to  Ireland.  An  absentee,  voluntarily,  I  never 
yet  have  been;  and  as  to  the  future,  I  declare " 

"I  declare  you  know  nothing  of  the  future,"  interrupted 
Lady  Dashfort,  in  a  half-peremptory,  half-playful  tone — 
"you  know  nothing;  make  no  rash  vows,  and  you  will 
break  none." 

The  undaunted  assurance  of  Lady  Dashfort's  genius  for 
intrigue  gave  her  an  air  of  frank  impudence,  which  pre- 
vented Lord  Colambre  from  suspecting  that  more  was 
meant  than  met  the  ear.  The  count  and  he  took  leave  of 
one  another  with  mutual  regard ;  and  Lady  Dashfort  re- 
joiced to  have  got  our  hero  out  of  Halloran  Castle. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LORD  COLAMBRE  had  waited  with  great  impatience 
for  an  answer  to  the  letter  of  inquiry  which  he  had 
written  about  Miss  Nugent's  mother.     A  letter  from 
Lady  Clonbrony  arrived ;  he  opened  it  with  the  greatest 
eagerness — passed  over 

Rheumatism  —  warm  weather  —  warm  bath  —  Buxton 
balls — Miss  Broadhurst — your  friend,  Sir  Arthur  Berryl, 
very  assiduous!  "  The  name  of  Grace  Nugent  he  found 
at  last,  and  read  as  follows. 

132 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Her  mother's  maiden  name  was  St  Omar  j  and  there  was  a 
faux  pas,  certainly.  She  was,  I  am  told  (for  it  was  before  my 
time),  educated  at  a  convent  abroad;  and  there  was  an  affair 
with  a  Captain  Reynolds,  a  young  officer,  which  her  friends  were 
obliged  to  hush  up.  She  brought  an  infant  to  England  with 
her,  and  took  the  name  of  Reynolds — but  none  of  that  family 
would  acknowledge  her;  and  she  lived  in  great  obscurity,  till 
your  uncle  Nugent  saw,  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  (knowing  her 
whole  history)  married  her.  He  adopted  the  child,  gave  her 
his  name,  and,  after  some  years,  the  whole  story  was  forgotten. 
Nothing  could  be  more  disadvantageous  to  Grace  than  to  have  it 
revived:  this  is  the  reason  we  kept  it  secret. 

Lord  Colambre  tore  the  letter  to  bits. 

From  the  perturbation  which  Lady  Dashfort  saw  in  his 
countenance,  she  guessed  the  nature  of  the  letter  which  he 
had  been  reading,  and  for  the  arrival  of  which  he  had  been 
so  impatient. 

"It  has  worked!"  said  she  to  herself.  ''Pour  le  coup 
Philippe  je  te  tiens  !  ' ' 

Lord  Colambre  appeared  this  day  more  sensible,  than  he 
had  ever  yet  seemed,  to  the  charms  of  the  fair  Isabel. 

"Many  a  tennis-ball,  and  many  a  heart  is  caught  at  the 
rebound,"  said  Lady  Dashfort.  "Isabel!  now  is  your 
time!" 

And  so  it  was — or  so,  perhaps,  it  would  have  been,  but 
for  a  circumstance  which  her  ladyship,  with  all  her  genius 
for  intrigue,  had  never  taken  into  her  consideration. 
Count  O'Halloran  came  to  return  the  visit  which  had  been 
paid  to  him ;  and,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  he  spoke 
of  the  officers  who  had  been  introduced  to  him,  and  told 
Lady  Dashfort  that  he  had  heard  a  report  which  shocked 
him  much — he  hoped  it  could  not  be  true — that  one  of 
these  officers  had  introduced  his  mistress  as  his  wife  to 
Lady  Oranmore,  who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood.  This 
officer,  it  w^s  said,  had  let  Lady  Oranmore  send  her  car- 
riage for  this  woman  ;  and  that  she  had  dined  at  Oranmore 
with  her  ladyship  and  her  daughters.'  "But  I  cannot 
believe  it !     I  cannot  believe  it  to  be  possible,  that  any 

>  Fact. 

133 


THE  ABSENTEE 

gentleman,  that  any  officer,  could  do  such  a  thing!"  said 
the  count. 

"And  is  this  all?"  exclaimed  Lady  Dashfort.  "Is  this 
all  the  terrible  affair,  my  good  count,  which  has  brought 
your  face  to  this  prodigious  length?  " 

The  count  looked  at  Lady  Dashfort  with  astonishment. 

"Such  a  look  of  virtuous  indignation,"  continued  she, 
"did  I  never  behold,  on  or  off  the  stage.  Forgive  me  for 
laughing,  count ;  but,  believe  me,  comedy  goes  through 
the  world  better  than  tragedy,  and,  take  it  all  in  all,  does 
rather  less  mischief.  As  to  the  thing  in  question,  I  know 
nothing  about  it:  I  dare  say,  it  is  not  true;  but,  now,  sup- 
pose it  was — it  is  only  a  silly  qjiiz,  of  a  raw  young  officer, 
upon  a  prudish  old  dowager.  I  know  nothing  about  it,  for 
my  part ;  but,  after  all,  what  irreparable  mischief  has  been 
done?  Laugh  at  the  thing,  and  then  it  is  a  jest — a  bad 
one,  perhaps,  but  still  only  a  jest — and  there's  an  end  of 
it ;  but  take  it  seriously,  and  there  is  no  knowing  where  it 
might  end — in  half  a  dozen  duels,  maybe." 

"Of  that,  madam,"  said  the  count,  "Lady  Oranmore's 
prudence  and  presence  of  mind  have  prevented  all  danger. 
Her  ladyship  would  not  understand  the  insult.  She  said, 
or  she  acted  as  if  she  said, '  Je  ne  veux  rien  voir,  ricn  ^confer, 
rien  savoir. '  Lady  Oranmore  is  one  of  the  most  respect- 
able  " 

"Count,  I  beg  your  pardon!"  interrupted  Lady  Dash- 
fort ;  "but  I  must  tell  you  that  your  favourite.  Lady  Oran- 
more, has  behaved  very  ill  to  me;  purposely  omitted  to 
invite  Isabel  to  her  ball ;  offended  and  insulted  me :— her 
praises,  therefore,  cannot  be  the  most  agreeable  subject  of 
conversation  you  can  choose  for  my  amusement ;  and  as  to 
the  rest,  you,  who  have  such  variety  and  so  much  polite- 
ness, will,  I  am  sure,  have  the  goodness  to  indulge  my 
caprice  in  this  instance." 

"I  shall  obey  your  ladyship,  and  be  silent,  whatever 
pleasure  it  might  give  me  to  speak  on  that  subject,"  said 
the  count;  "and  I  trust  Lady  Dashfort  will  reward  me  by 
the  assurance  that,  however  playfully  she  may  have  just 
now  spoken,  she  seriously  disapproves  and  is  shocked." 

134 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Oh,  shocked!  shocked  to  death!  if  that  will  satisfy 
you,  my  dear  count." 

The  count,  obviously,  was  not  satisfied :  he  had  civil,  as 
well  as  military  courage,  and  his  sense  of  right  and  wrong 
could  stand  against  the  raillery  and  ridicule  of  a  fine  lady. 

The  conversation  ended:  Lady  Dashfort  thought  it 
would  have  no  further  consequences ;  and  she  did  not  regret 
the  loss  of  a  man  like  Count  O'Halloran,  who  lived  retired 
in  his  castle,  and  who  could  not  have  any  influence  upon 
the  opinion  of  the  fashionable  world.  However,  upon 
turning  from  the  count  to  Lord  Colambre,  who  she  thought 
had  been  occupied  with  Lady  Isabel,  and  to  whom  she 
imagined  all  this  dispute  was  uninteresting,  she  perceived, 
by  his  countenance,  that  she  had  made  a  great  mistake. 
Still  she  trusted  that  her  power  over  Lord  Colambre  was 
sufficient  easily  to  efface  whatever  unfavourable  impression 
this  conversation  had  made  upon  his  mind.  He  had  no 
personal  interest  in  the  affair ;  and  she  had  generally  found 
that  people  are  easily  satisfied  about  any  wrong  or  insult, 
public  or  private,  in  which  they  have  no  immediate  con- 
cern. But  all  the  charms  of  her  conversation  were  now 
tried  in  vain  to  reclaim  him  from  the  reverie  into  which  he 
had  fallen. 

His  friend  Sir  James  Brooke's  parting  advice  occurred  to 
our  hero  ;  his  eyes  began  to  open  to  Lady  Dashfort 's  char- 
acter;  and  he  was,  from  this  moment,  freed  from  her  power. 
Lady  Isabel,  however,  had  taken  no  part  in  all  this  —  she 
was  blameless;  and,  independently  of  her  mother,  and  in 
pretended  opposition  of  sentiment,  she  might  have  con- 
tinued to  retain  the  influence  she  had  gained  over  Lord 
Colambre,  but  that  a  slight  accident  revealed  to  him  her 
real  disposition. 

It  happened,  on  the  evening  of  this  day,  that  Lady 
Isabel  came  into  the  library  with  one  of  the  young  ladies 
of  the  house,  talking  very  eagerly,  without  perceiving  Lord 
Colambre,  who  was  sitting  in  one  of  the  recesses  reading. 

"My  dear  creature,  you  are  quite  mistaken,"  said  Lady 
Isabel,  "he  was  never  a  favourite  of  mine;  I  always  de- 
tested him;  I  only  flirted  with  him  to  plague  his  wife.     Oh 

135 


THE  ABSENTEE 

that  wife,  my  dear  Elizabeth,  I  do  hate!  "  cried  she,  clasp- 
ing her  hands,  and  expressing  hatred  with  all  her  soul  and 
with  all  her  strength.  "I  detest  that  Lady  de  Cresey  to 
such  a  degree,  that,  to  purchase  the  pleasure  of  making  her 
feel  the  pangs  of  jealousy  for  one  hour,  look,  I  would  this 
moment  lay  down  this  finger  and  let  it  be  cut  off." 

The  face,  the  whole  figure  of  Lady  Isabel  at  this  moment 
appeared  to  Lord  Colambre  suddenly  metamorphosed ;  in- 
stead of  the  soft,  gentle,  amiable  female,  all  sweet  charity 
and  tender  sympathy,  formed  to  love  and  to  be  loved,  he 
beheld  one  possessed  and  convulsed  by  an  evil  spirit — her 
beauty,  if  beauty  it  could  be  called,  the  beauty  of  a  fiend. 
Some  ejaculation,  which  he  unconsciously  uttered,  made 
Lady  Isabel  start.  She  saw  him — saw  the  expression  of 
his  countenance,  and  knew  that  all  was  over. 

Lord  Colambre,  to  the  utter  astonishment  and  disap- 
pointment of  Lady  Dashfort,  and  to  the  still  greater  morti- 
fication of  Lady  Isabel,  announced  this  night  that  it  was 
necessary  he  should  immediately  pursue  his  tour  in  Ireland. 
We  pass  over  all  the  castles  in  the  air  which  the  young 
ladies  of  the  family  had  built,  and  which  now  fell  to  the 
ground.  We  pass  all  the  civil  speeches  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Killpatrick ;  all  the  vehement  remonstrances  of  Lady  Dash- 
fort;  and  the  vain  sighs  of  Lady  Isabel.  To  the  last 
moment  Lady  Dashfort  said — 

"He  will  not  go." 

But  he  went ;  and,  when  he  was  gone,  Lady  Dashfort 
exclaimed,  "That  man  has  escaped  from  me."  And  after 
a  pause,  turning  to  her  daughter,  she,  in  the  most  taunting 
and  contemptuous  terms,  reproached  her  as  the  cause  of 
this  failure,  concluding  by  a  declaration  that  she  must  in 
future  manage  her  own  affairs,  and  had  best  settle  her  mind 
to  marry  Heathcock,  since  every  one  else  was  too  wise  to 
think  of  her. 

Lady  Isabel  of  course  retorted.  But  we  leave  this  ami- 
able mother  and  daughter  to  recriminate  in  appropriate 
terms,  and  we  follow  our  hero,  rejoiced  that  he  has  been 
disentangled  from  their  snares.  Those  who  have  never 
been   in  similar  peril  will  wonder  much  that  he  did  not 

136 


THE  ABSENTEE 

escape  sooner;  those  who  have  ever  been  in  like  danger 
will  wonder  more  that  he  escaped  at  all.  Those  who  are 
best  acquainted  with  the  heart  or  imagination  of  man  will 
be  most  ready  to  acknowledge  that  the  combined  charms 
of  wit,  beauty,  and  flattery,  may,  for  a  time,  suspend  the 
action  of  right  reason  in  the  mind  of  the  greatest  philo- 
sopher, or  operate  against  the  resolutions  of  the  greatest 
of  heroes. 

Lord  Colambre  pursued  his  way  to  Castle  Halloran,  de- 
sirous, before  he  quitted  this  part  of  the  country,  to  take 
leave  of  the  count,  who  had  shown  him  much  civility,  and 
for  whose  honourable  conduct,  and  generous  character,  he 
had  conceived  a  high  esteem,  which  no  little  peculiarities 
of  antiquated  dress  or  manner  could  diminish.  Indeed, 
the  old-fashioned  politeness  of  what  was  formerly  called  a 
well-bred  gentleman  pleased  him  better  than  the  indolent 
or  insolent  selfishness  of  modern  men  of  the  ton.  Per- 
haps, notwithstanding  our  hero's  determination  to  turn 
his  mind  from  everything  connected  with  the  idea  of  Miss 
Nugent,  some  latent  curiosity  about  the  burial-place  of  the 
Nugents  might  have  operated  to  make  him  call  upon  the 
count.  In  this  hope  he  was  disappointed  ;  for  a  cross  mil- 
ler, to  whom  the  abbey-ground  was  set,  on  which  the 
burial-place  was  found,  had  taken  it  into  his  head  to  refuse 
admittance,  and  none  could  enter  his  ground. 

Count  O'Halloran  was  much  pleased  by  Lord  Colam- 
bre's  visit.  The  very  day  of  Lord  Colambre's  arrival  at 
Halloran  Castle,  the  count  was  going  to  Oranmore ;  he  was 
dressed,  and  his  carriage  was  waiting;  therefore  Lord  Co- 
lambre begged  that  he  might  not  detain  him,  and  the  count 
requested  his  lordship  to  accompany  him. 

"Let  me  have  the  honour  of  introducing  you,  my  lord, 
to  a  family,  with  whom,  I  am  persuaded,  you  will  be 
pleased ;  by  whom  you  will  be  appreciated ;  and  at  whose 
house  you  will  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  best  man- 
ner of  living  of  the  Irish  nobility."  Lord  Colambre  ac- 
cepted the  invitation,  and  was  introduced  at  Oranmore. 
The  dignified  appearance  and  respectable  character  of 
Lady  Oranmore;  the  charming  unaffected  manners  of  her 

137 


THE  ABSENTEE 

daughters ;  the  air  of  domestic  happiness  and  comfort  in  her 
family ;  the  becoming  magnificence,  free  from  ostentation, 
in  her  whole  establishment ;  the  respect  and  affection  with 
which  she  was  treated  by  all  who  approached  her,  delighted 
and  touched  Lord  Colambre;  the  more,  perhaps,  because 
he  had  heard  this  family  so  unjustly  abused ;  and  because 
he  saw  Lady  Oranmore  and  her  daughter,  in  immediate 
contrast  to  Lady  Dashfort  and  Lady  Isabel." 

A  little  circumstance  which  occurred  during  this  visit 
increased  his  interest  for  the  family.  When  Lady  de 
Cresey's  little  boys  came  in  after  dinner,  one  of  them  was 
playing  with  a  seal,  which  had  just  been  torn  from  a  letter. 
The  child  showed  it  to  Lord  Colambre,  and  asked  him  to 
read  the  motto.  The  motto  was,  "Deeds,  not  words" —  » 
his  friend  Sir  James  Brooke's  motto,  and  his  arms.  Lord 
Colambre  eagerly  inquired  if  this  family  was  acquainted 
with  Sir  James,  and  he  soon  perceived  that  they  were  not 
only  acquainted  with  him,  but  that  they  were  particularly 
interested  about  him. 

Lady  Oranmore's  second  daughter,  Lady  Harriet,  ap- 
peared particularly  pleased  by  the  manner  in  which  Lord 
Colambre  spoke  of  Sir  James.  And  the  child,  who  had 
now  established  himself  on  his  lordship's  knee,  turned 
round,  and  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  'Twas  Aunt  Harriet  gave 
me  the  seal;  Sir  James  is  to  be  married  to  Aunt  Harriet, 
and  then  he  will  be  my  uncle." 

Some  of  the  principal  gentry  of  this  part  of  the  country 
happened  to  dine  at  Oranmore  one  of  the  days  Lord  Co- 
lambre was  there.  He  was  surprised  at  the  discovery,  that 
there  were  so  many  agreeable,  well-informed,  and  well-bred 
people,  of  whom,  while  he  was  at  Killpatrickstown,  he  had 
seen  nothing.  He  now  discerned  how  far  he  had  been 
deceived  by  Lady  Dashfort. 

Both  the  count,  and  Lord  and  Lady  Oranmore,  who 
were  warmly  attached  to  their  country,  exhorted  him  to 
make  himself  amends  for  the  time  he  had  lost,  by  seeing 
with  his  own  eyes,  and  judging  with  his  own  understand- 
ing, of  the  country  and  its  own  inhabitants,  during  the 
remainder  of  the  time  he  was  to  stay   in  Ireland.     The 

138 


THE  ABSENTEE 

higher  classes,  in  most  countries,  they  observed  were  gen- 
erally similar;  but,  in  the  lower  class,  he  would  find  many 
characteristic  differences. 

When  he  first  came  to  Ireland,  he  had  been  very  eager 
to  go  and  see  his  father's  estate,  and  to  judge  of  the  con- 
duct of  his  agents,  and  the  condition  of  his  tenantry ;  but 
this  eagerness  had  subsided,  and  the  design  had  almost 
faded  from  his  mind,  whilst  under  the  influence  of  Lady 
Dashfort's  misrepresentations.  A  mistake,  relative  to  some 
remittance  from  his  banker  in  Dublin,  obliged  him  to  de- 
lay his  journey  a  few  days,  and  during  that  time  Lord  and 
Lady  Oranmore  showed  him  the  neat  cottages,  the  well- 
attended  schools,  in  their  neighbourhood.  They  showed 
'  him  not  only  what  could  be  done,  but  what  had  been  done, 
by  the  influence  of  great  proprietors  residing  on  their  own 
estates,  and  encouraging  the  people  by  judicious  kindness. 

He  saw,  he  acknowledged  the  truth  of  this;  but  it  did 
not  come  home  to  his  feelings  now  as  it  would  have  done 
a  little  while  ago.  His  views  and  plans  were  altered;  he 
looked  forward  to  the  idea  of  marrying  and  settling  in  Ire- 
land, and  then  everything  in  the  country  was  interesting  to 
him  ;  but  since  he  had  forbidden  himself  to  think  of  a  union 
with  Miss  Nugent,  his  mind  had  lost  its  object  and  its 
spring;  he  was  not  sufficiently  calm  to  think  of  the  public 
good ;  his  thoughts  were  absorbed  by  his  private  concern. 
He  knew,  and  repeated  to  himself,  that  he  ought  to  visit 
his  own  and  his  father's  estates,  and  to  see  the  condition 
of  his  tenantry ;  he  desired  to  fulfil  his  duties,  but  they 
ceased  to  appear  to  him  easy  and  pleasurable,  for  hope  and 
love  no  longer  brightened  his  prospects. 

That  he  might  see  and  hear  more  than  he  could  as  heir- 
apparent  to  the  estate,  he  sent  his  servant  to  Dublin  to 
wait  for  him  there.  He  travelled  incognito,  wrapped  him- 
self in  a  shabby  greatcoat,  and  took  the  name  of  Evans. 
He  arrived  at  a  village,  or,  as  it  was  called,  a  town,  which 
bore  the  name  of  Colambre.  He  was  agreeably  surprised 
by  the  air  of  neatness  and  finish  in  the  houses  and  in  the 
street,  which  had  a  nicely-swept  paved  footway.  He  slept 
at  a  small  but  excellent  inn — excellent,  perhaps,  because 

,139 


THE  ABSENTEE 

it  was  small,  and  proportioned  to  the  situation  and  business 
of  the  place.  Good  supper,  good  bed,  good  attendance; 
nothing  out  of  repair ;  no  things  pressed  into  services  for 
what  they  were  never  intended  by  nature  or  art ;  none  of 
what  are  vulgarly  called  makeshifts.  No  chambermaid 
slipshod,  or  waiter  smelling  of  whisky ;  but  all  tight  and 
right,  and  everybody  doing  their  own  business,  and  doing 
it  as  if  it  was  their  everyday  occupation,  not  as  if  it  was 
done  by  particular  desire,  for  first  or  last  time  this  season. 
The  landlord  came  in  at  supper  to  inquire  whether  anything 
was  wanted.  Lord  Colambre  took  this  opportunity  of 
entering  into  conversation  with  him,  and  asked  him  to 
whom  the  town  belonged,  and  who  were  the  proprietors 
of  the  neighbouring  estates. 

"The  town  belongs  to  an  absentee  lord — one  Lord  Clon- 
brony,  who  lives  always  beyond  the  seas,  in  London ;  and 
never  seen  the  town  since  it  was  a  town,  to  call  a  town." 

"And  does  the  land  in  the  neighbourhood  belong  to  this 
Lord  Clonbrony?  " 

"It  does,  sir;  he's  a  great  proprietor,  but  knows  nothing 
of  his  property,  nor  of  us.  Never  set  foot  among  us,  to 
my  knowledge,  since  I  was  as  high  as  the  table.  He 
might  as  well  be  a  West  India  planter,  and  we  negroes,  for 
anything  he  knows  to  the  contrary — has  no  more  care,  nor 
thought  about  us,  than  if  he  were  in  Jamaica,  or  the 
other  world.  Shame  for  him ! — But  there's  too  many  to 
keep  him  in  countenance." 

Lord  Colambre  asked  him  what  wine  he  could  have ;  and 
then  inquired  who  managed  the  estate  for  this  absentee. 

"Mr.  Burke,  sir.  And  I  don't  know  why  God  was  so 
kind  to  give  so  good  an  agent  to  an  absentee  like  Lord 
Clonbrony,  except  it  was  for  the  sake  of  us,  who  is  under 
him,  and  knows  the  blessing,  and  is  thankful  for  the  same." 

"Very  good  cutlets,"  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"I  am  happy  to  hear  it,  sir.  They  have  a  right  to  be 
good,  for  Mrs.  Burke  sent  her  own  cook  to  teach  my  wife 
to  dress  cutlets." 

"So  the  agent  is  a  good  agent,  is  he?  " 

"He  is,  thanks  be  to  Heaven  !     And  that's  what  few  can 

140. 


THE  ABSENTEE 

boast,  especially  when  the  landlord's  living  over  the  seas: 
we  have  the  luck  to  have  got  a  good  agent  over  us,  in  Mr. 
Burke,  who  is  a  right  bred  gentleman;  a  snug  little  pro- 
perty of  his  own,  honestly  made;  with  the  good  will  and 
good  wishes,  and  respect  of  all." 

"Does  he  live  in  the  neighbourhood?  " 

"Just  convanient.^  At  the  end  of  the  town  ;  in  the  house 
on  the  hill,  as  you  passed,  sir:  to  the  left,  with  the  trees 
about  it,  all  of  his  planting,  finely  grown  too — for  there's 
a  blessing  on  all  he  does,  and  he  has  done  a  deal. — There's 
salad,  sir,  if  you  d.VQ. partial  to  it.  Very  fine  lettuce.  Mrs. 
Burke  sent  us  the  plants  herself." 

"Excellent  salad!  So  this  Mr.  Burke  has  done  a  great 
deal,  has  he?     In  what  way?  " 

"In  every  way,  sir — sure  was  not  it  he  that  had  im- 
proved, and  fostered,  and  made  the  town  of  Colambre? — 
no  thanks  to  the  proprietor,  nor  to  the  young  man  whose 
name  it  bears,  neither!  " 

"Have  you  any  porter,  pray,  sir?  " 

"We  have,  sir,  as  good,  I  hope,  as  you'd  drink  in  Lon- 
don, for  it's  the  same  you  get  there,  I  understand,  from 
Cork,  And  I  have  some  of  my  own  brewing,  which,  they 
say,  you  could  not  tell  the  difference  between  it  and  Cork 
quality — if  you'd  be  pleased  to  try.  Harry,  the  cork- 
screw. 

The  porter  of  his  own  brewing  was  pronounced  to  be 
extremely  good ;  and  the  landlord  observed  it  was  Mr. 
Burke  encouraged  him  to  learn  to  brew,  and  lent  him  his 
own  brewer  for  a  time  to  teach  him. 

"Your  Mr.  Burke,  I  find,  is  apropos  to  porter,  apropos  to 
salad,  apropos  to  cutlets,  apropos  to  everything,"  said  Lord 
Colambre,  smiling;  "he  seems  to  be  a  nonpareil  of  an 
agent.  I  suppose  you  are  a  great  favourite  of  his,  and 
you  do  what  you  please  with  him?  " 

"Oh  no,  sir,  I  could' not  say  that;  Mr.  Burke  does  not 
have  favourites  anyway;  but  according  to  my  deserts,  I 
trust,  I  stand  well  enough  with  him,  for,  in  truth,  he  is  a 
right  good  agent." 

'  Convenient :  near. 
141 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Lord  Colambre  still  pressed  for  particulars;  he  was  an 
Englishman,  and  a  stranger,  he  said,  and  did  not  exactly 
know  what  was  meant  in  Ireland  by  a  good  agent. 

"Why,  he  is  the  man  that  will  encourage  the  improving 
tenant;  and  show  no  favour  or  affection,  but  justice,  which 
comes  even  to  all,  and  does  best  for  all  at  the  long  run ; 
and,  residing  always  in  the  country,  like  Mr.  Burke,  and 
understanding  country  business,  and  going  about  continu- 
ally among  the  tenantry,  he  knows  when  to  press  for  the 
rent,  and  when  to  leave  the  money  to  lay  out  upon  the  land  ; 
and,  according  as  they  would  want  it,  can  give  a  tenant  a 
help  or  a  check  properly.  Then  no  duty-work  called  for, 
no  presents,  nor  glove-money,  nor  scaliiig-moiuy  even,  taken 
or  offered ;  no  underhand  hints  about  proposals,  when  land 
would  be  out  of  lease,  but  a  considerable  preference,  if 
deserved,  to  the  old  tenant,  and  if  not,  a  fair  advertise- 
ment, and  the  best  offer  and  tenant  accepted;  no  screwing 
of  the  land  to  the  highest  penny,  just  to  please  the  head 
landlord  for  the  minute,  and  ruin  him  at  the  end,  by  the 
tenant's  racking  the  land,  and  running  off  with  the  year's 
rent ;  nor  no  bargains  to  his  own  relations  or  friends  did 
Mr.  Burke  ever  give  or  grant,  but  all  fair  between  landlord 
and  tenant ;  and  that's  the  thing  that  will  last ;  and  that's 
what  I  call  the  good  agent." 

Lord  Colambre  poured  out  a  glass  of  wine,  and  begged 
the  innkeeper  to  drink  the  good  agent's  health,  in  which 
he  was  heartily  pledged.  "I  thank  your  honour; — Mr. 
Burke's  health!  and  long  may  he  live  over  and  amongst 
us;  he  saved  me  from  drink  and  ruin,  when  I  was  once  in- 
clined to  it,  and  made  a  man  of  me  and  all  my  family." 

The  particulars  we  cannot  stay  to  detail :  this  grateful 
man,  however,  took  pleasure  in  sounding  the  praises  of  his 
benefactor,  and  in  raising  him  in  the  opinion  of  the  traveller. 

"As  you've  time,  and  are  curious  about  such  things,  sir, 
perhaps  you'd  walk  up  to  the  school  that  Mrs.  Burke  has 
for  the  poor  children ;  and  look  at  the  market-house,  and 
see  how  clean  he  takes  a  pride  to  keep  the  town ;  and  any 
house  in  the  town,  from  the  priest's  to  the  parson's,  that 
you'd  go  into,  will  give  you  the  same  character  as  I  do  of 

142 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Mr.  Burke:  from  the  brogue  to  the  boot,  all  speak  the 
same  of  him,  and  can  say  no  other.  God  for  ever  bless 
and  keep  him  over  us!  " 

Upon  making  further  inquiries,  everything  the  innkeeper 
had  said  was  confirmed  by  different  inhabitants  of  the  vil- 
lage. Lord  Colambre  conversed  with  the  shopkeepers, 
with  the  cottagers;  and,  without  making  any  alarming  in- 
quiries, he  obtained  all  the  information  he  wanted.  He 
went  to  the  village  school — a  pretty,  cheerful  house,  with 
a  neat  garden  and  a  play-green;  met  Mrs.  Burke;  intro- 
duced himself  to  her  as  a  traveller.  The  school  was  shown 
to  him :  it  was  just  what  it  ought  to  be — neither  too  much 
nor  too  little  had  been  attempted ;  there  was  neither  too 
much  interference  nor  too  little  attention.  Nothing  for 
exhibition;  care  to  teach  well,  without  any  vain  attempt 
to  teach  in  a  wonderfully  short  time.  All  that  experience 
proves  to  be  useful,  in  both  Dr.  Bell's  and  Mr.  Lancaster's 
modes  of  teaching,  Mrs.  Burke  had  adopted ;  leaving  it  to 
"graceless  zealots"  to  fight  about  the  rest.  That  no  at- 
tempts at  proselytism  had  been  made,  and  that  no  illiberal 
distinctions  had  been  made  in  this  school,  Lord  Colambre 
was  convinced,  in  the  best  manner  possible,  by  seeing  the 
children  of  Protestants  and  Catholics  sitting  on  the  same 
benches,  learning  from  the  same  books,  and  speaking  to 
one  another  with  the  same  cordial  familiarity.  Mrs,  Burke 
was  an  unaffected,  sensible  woman,  free  from  all  party  pre- 
judices, and,  without  ostentation,  desirous  and  capable  of 
doing  good.  Lord  Colambre  was  much  pleased  with  her, 
and  very  glad  that  she  invited  him  to  dinner. 

Mr.  Burke  did  not  come  in  till  late;  for  he  had  been  de- 
tained portioning  out  some  meadows,  which  were  of  great 
consequence  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  town.  He  brought 
home  to  dine  with  him  the  clergyman  and  the  priest  of  the 
parish,  both  of  whom  he  had  taken  successful  pains  to  ac- 
commodate with  the  land  which  suited  their  respective 
convenience.  The  good  terms  on  which  they  seemed  to 
be  with  each  other,  and  with  him,  appeared  to  Lord 
Colambre  to  do  honour  to  Mr.  Burke.  All  the  favourable 
accounts  his  lordship  had  received  of  this  gentleman  were 

143 


THE  ABSENTEE 

confirmed  by  what  he  saw  and  heard.  After  the  clergy- 
man and  priest  had  taken  leave,  upon  Lord  Colambre's 
expressing  some  surprise,  mixed  with  satisfaction,  at  seeing 
the  harmony  which  subsisted  between  them,  Mr,  Burke 
assured  him  that  this  was  the  same  in  many  parts  of  Ire- 
land. He  observed,  that  "as  the  suspicion  of  ill-will  never 
fails  to  produce  it,"  so  he  had  often  found,  that  taking  it 
for  granted  that  no  ill-will  exists  has  the  most  conciliating 
effect.  He  said,  to  please  opposite  parties,  he  used  no 
arts ;  but  he  tried  to  make  all  his  neighbours  live  comfort- 
ably together,  by  making  them  acquainted  with  each  other's 
good  qualities ;  by  giving  them  opportunities  of  meeting 
sociably,  and,  from  time  to  time,  of  doing  each  other  little 
services  and  good  offices.  "Fortunately,  he  had  so  much 
to  do,"  he  said,  "that  he  had  no  time  for  controversy. 
He  was  a  plain  man,  made  it  a  rule  not  to  meddle  with 
speculative  points,  and  to  avoid  all  irritating  discussions; 
he  was  not  to  rule  the  country,  but  to  live  in  it,  and  make 
others  live  as  happily  as  he  could." 

Having  nothing  to  conceal  in  his  character,  opinions,  or 
circumstances,  Mr.  Burke  was  perfectly  open  and  unre- 
served in  his  manner  and  conversation  ;  freely  answered  all 
the  traveller's  inquiries,  and  took  pains  to  show  him  every- 
thine  he  desired  to  see.  Lord  Colambre  said  he  had 
thoughts  of  settling  in  Ireland ;  and  declared,  with  truth, 
that  he  had  not  seen  any  part  of  the  country  he  should  like 
better  to  live  in  than  this  neighbourhood.  He  went  over 
most  of  the  estate  with  Mr.  Burke,  and  had  ample  oppor- 
tunities of  convincing  himself  that  this  gentleman  was  in- 
deed, as  the  innkeeper  had  described  him,  "a  right  good 
gentleman,  and  a  right  good  agent." 

He  paid  Mr.  Burke  some  just  compliments  on  the  state 
of  the  tenantry,  and  the  neat  and  flourishing  appearance 
of  the  town  of  Colambre. 

"What  pleasure  it  will  give  the  proprietor  when  he  sees 
all  you  have  done!  "  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"Oh,  sir,  don't  speak  of  it! — that  breaks  my  heart;  he 
never  has  shown  the  least  interest  in  anything  I  have  done ; 
he  is  quite  dissatisfied  with  me,  because  I  have  not  ruined 

144 


THE  ABSENTEE 

his  tenantry,  by  forcing  them  to  pay  more  than  the  land  is 
worth ;  because  I  have  not  squeezed  money  from  them  by 
fining  down  rents;  and — but  all  this,  as  an  Englishman, 
sir,  must  be  unintelligible  to  you.  The  end  of  the  matter 
is,  that,  attached  as  I  am  to  this  place  and  the  people  about 
me,  and,  as  I  hope,  the  tenantry  are  to  me — I  fear  I  shall 
be  obliged  to  give  up  the  agency." 

"Give  up  the  agency!  How  so? — you  must  not,"  cried 
Lord  Colambre,  and,  for  the  moment,  he  forgot  himself; 
but  Mr.  Burke  took  this  only  for  an  expression  of  good- 
will. 

"I  must,  I  am  afraid,"  continued  he.  "My  employer. 
Lord  Clonbrony,  is  displeased  with  me — continual  calls  for 
money  come  upon  me  from  England,  and  complaints  of 
my  slow  remittances." 

"Perhaps  Lord  Clonbrony  is  in  embarrassed  circum- 
stances," said  Lord  Colambre. 

"I  never  speak  of  my  employer's  affairs,  sir,"  replied 
Mr.  Burke;  now  for  the  first  time  assuming  an  air  of 
reserve. 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir — I  seem  to  have  asked  an  indiscreet 
question."     Mrs.  Burke  was  silent. 

"Lest  my  reserve  should  give  you  a  false  impression,  I 
will  add,  sir,"  resumed  Mr.  Burke,  "that  I  really  am  not 
acquainted  with  the  state  of  his  lordship's  affairs  in  general. 
I  know  only  what  belongs  to  the  estate  under  my  own 
management.  The  principal  part  of  his  lordship's  pro- 
perty, the  Clonbrony  estate,  is  under  another  agent,  Mr. 
Garraghty." 

"Garraghty !  "  repeated  Lord  Colambre;  "what  sort  of 
a  person  is  he?  But  I  may  take  it  for  granted,  that  it 
cannot  fall  to  the  lot  of  one  and  the  same  absentee  to 
have  two  such  agents  as  Mr.  Burke." 

Mr.  Burke  bowed,  and  seemed  pleased  by  the  compli- 
ment, which  he  knew  he  deserved — but  not  a  word  did  he 
say  of  Mr.  Garraghty;  and  Lord  Colambre,  afraid  of  be- 
traying himself  by  some  other  indiscreet  question,  changed 
the  conversation. 

That  very  night  the  post  brought  a  letter  to  Mr.  Burke, 

145 


THE  ABSENTEE 

from  Lord  Clonbrony,  which  Mr.  Burke  gave  to  his  wife 
as  soon  as  he  had  read  it,  saying — 

"Sec  the  reward  of  all  my  services! " 

Mrs.  Burke  glanced  her  eye  over  the  letter,  and,  being 
extremely  fond  of  her  husband,  and  sensible  of  his  deserv- 
ing far  different  treatment,  burst  into  indignant  exclama- 
tions— 

"See  the  reward  of  all  your  services,  indeed! — What  an 
unreasonable,  ungrateful  man ! — So,  this  is  the  thanks  for 
all  you  have  done  for  Lord  Clonbrony ! " 

"He  does  not  know  what  I  have  done,  my  dear.  He 
never  has  seen  what  1  have  done." 

"More  shame  for  him!  " 

"He  never,  I  suppose,  looks  over  his  accounts,  or  under- 
stands them." 

"More  shame  for  him!  " 

"He  listens  to  foolish  reports,  or  misrepresentations, 
perhaps.  He  is  at  a  distance,  and  cannot  find  out  the 
truth." 

"More  shame  for  him!  " 

"Take  it  quietly,  my  dear;  we  have  the  comfort  of  a 
good  conscience.  The  agency  may  be  taken  from  me  by 
this  lord ;  but  the  sense  of  having  done  my  duty,  no  lord 
or  man  upon  earth  can  give  or  take  away." 

"Such  a  letter!"  said  Mrs.  Burke,  taking  it  up  again. 
"Not  even  the  civility  to  write  with  his  own  hand! — only 
his  signature  to  the  scrawl — looks  as  if  it  was  written  by  a 
drunken  man,  does  not  it,  Mr.  Evans?  "  said  she,  showing 
the  letter  to  Lord  Colambre,  who  immediately  recognised 
the  writing  of  Sir  Terence  O'Fay. 

"It  does  not  look  like  the  hand  of  a  gentleman,  indeed," 
said  Lord  Colambre. 

"It  has  Lord  Clonbrony 's  own  signature,  let  it  be  what 
it  will,"  said  Mr.  Burke,  looking  closely  at  it ;  "Lord  Clon- 
brony's  own  writing  the  signature  is,  I  am  clear  of  that." 

Lord  Clonbrony's  son  was  clear  of  it  also;  but  he  took 
care  not  to  give  any  opinion  on  that  point. 

"Oh,  pray,  read  it,  sir,  read  it,"  said  Mrs.  Burke,  pleased 
by  his  tone  of  indignation;  "read  it,  pray;  a  gentleman 

146 


THE  ABSENTEE 

may  write  a  bad  hand,  but  no  gentleman  could  write  such 
a  letter  as  that  to  Mr.  Burke — pray  read  it,  sir;  you  who 
have  seen  something  of  what  Mr,  Burke  has  done  for  the 
town  of  Colambre,  and  what  he  has  made  of  the  tenantry 
and  the  estate  of  Lord  Clonbrony." 

Lord  Colambre  read,  and  was  convinced  that  his  father 
had  never  written  or  read  the  letter,  but  had  signed  it, 
trusting  to  Sir  Terence  O'Fay's  having  expressed  his  senti- 
ments properly. 

Sir, 

As  I  have  no  further  occasion  for  your  services,  you  will  take 
notice,  that  I  hereby  request  you  will  forthwith  hand  over,  on 
or  before  the  ist  of  November  next,  your  accounts,  with  the 
balance  due  of  the  hajiging-gale  (which,  I  understand,  is  more 
than  ought  to  be  at  this  season)  to  Nicholas  O'Garraghty,  Esq., 
College  Green,  Dublin,  who  in  future  will  act  as  agent,  and 
shall  get,  by  post,  immediately,  a  power  of  attorney  for  the 
same,  entitling  him  to  receive  and  manage  the  Colambre  as  well 
as  the  Clonbrony  estate,  for,  Sir,  your  obedient  humble  servant, 

Clonbrony. 

"Grosvenor  Square." 


Though  misrepresentation,  caprice,  or  interest,  might 
have  induced  Lord  Clonbrony  to  desire  to  change  his 
agent,  yet  Lord  Colambre  knew  that  his  father  could  never 
have  announced  his  wishes  in  such  a  style;  and,  as  he  re- 
turned the  letter  to  Mrs.  Burke,  he  repeated,  he  was  con- 
vinced that  it  was  impossible  that  any  nobleman  could 
have  written  such  a  letter ;  that  it  must  have  been  written 
by  some  inferior  person ;  and  that  his  lordship  had  signed 
it  without  reading  it. 

"My  dear,  I'm  sorry  you  showed  that  letter  to  Mr. 
Evans,"  said  Mr.  Burke;  "I  don't  like  to  expose  Lord 
Clonbrony ;  he  is  a  well-meaning  gentleman,  misled  by 
ignorant  or  designing  people ;  at  all  events,  it  is  not  for  us 
to  expose  him." 

"He  has  exposed  himself,"  said  Mrs.  Burke;  "and  the 
world  should  know  it." 

147 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"He  was  very  kind  to  me  when  I  was  a  young  man,'' 
said  Mr.  Burke;  "we  must  not  forget  that  now,  because 
we  are  angry,  my  love." 

"Why,  no,  my  love,  to  be  sure  we  should  not;  but  who 
could  have  recollected  it  just  at  this  minute  but  yourself? 
— And  now,  sir,"  turning  to  Lord  Colambre,  "you  see 
what  kind  of  a  man  this  is :  now  is  it  not  difficult  for  me  to 
bear  patiently  to  see  him  ill-treated? " 

"Not  only  difficult,  but  impossible,  I  should  think, 
madam,"  said  Lord  Colambre;  "I  know,  even  I,  who  am 
a  stranger,  cannot  help  feeling  for  both  of  you,  as  you 
must  see  I  do." 

"And  half  the  world,  who  don't  know  him,"  continued 
Mrs.  Burke,  "when  they  hear  that  Lord  Clonbrony's 
agency  is  taken  from  him,  will  think,  perhaps,  that  he  is 
to  blame." 

"No,  madam,"  said  Lord  Colambre;  "that  you  need 
not  fear;  Mr.  Burke  may  safely  trust  to  his  character; 
from  what  I  have  within  these  two  days  seen  and  heard,  I 
am  convinced  that  such  is  the  respect  he  has  deserved  and 
acquired,  that  no  blame  can  touch  him." 

"Sir,  I  thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Burke,  the  tears  coming 
into  her  eyes;  "you  can  judge — you  do  him  justice;  but 
there  are  so  many  who  don't  know  him,  and  who  will  de- 
cide without  knowing  any  of  the  facts," 

"That,  my  dear,  happens  about  everything  to  every- 
body," said  Mr.  Burke;  "but  we  must  have  patience; 
time  sets  all  judgments  right,  sooner  or  later." 

"But  the  sooner  the  better,"  said  Mrs.  Burke.  "Mr. 
Evans,  I  hope  you  will  be  so  kind,  if  ever  you  hear  this 
business  talked  of " 

"Mr.  Evans  lives  in  Wales,  my  dear." 

"But  he  is  travelling  through  Ireland,  my  dear,  and  he 
said  he  should  return  to  Dublin,  and,  you  know,  there  he 
certainly  will  hear  it  talked  of;  and  I  hope  he  will  do  me 
the  favour  to  state  what  he  has  seen  and  knows  to  be  the 
truth." 

"Be  assured  that  I  will  do  Mr.  Burke  justice — as  far  as 
it  is  in  my  power,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  restraining  him- 

148 


THE  ABSENTEE 

self  much,  that  he  might  not  say  more  than  became  his 
assumed  character.  He  took  leave  of  this  worthy  family 
that  night,  and,  early  the  next  morning,  departed. 

"Ah!"  thought  he,  as  he  drove  away  from  this  well- 
regulated  and  flourishing  place,  "how  happy  I  might  be, 
settled  here  with  such  a  wife  as — her  of  whom  I  must  think 
no  more." 

He  pursued  his  way  to  Clonbrony,  his  father's  other 
estate,  which  was  at  a  considerable  distance  from  Colam- 
bre;  he  was  resolved  to  know  what  kind  of  agent  Mr. 
Nicholas  Garraghty  might  be,  who  was  to  supersede  Mr. 
Burke,  and  by  power  of  attorney  to  be  immediately  en- 
titled to  receive  and  manage  the  Colambre  as  well  as  the 
Clonbrony  estate. 


CHAPTER   X. 

TOWARDS  the  evening  of  the  second  day's  journey, 
the  driver  of  Lord  Colambre's  hackney  chaise 
stopped,  and  jumping  off  the  wooden  bar,  on  which 
he  had  been  seated,  exclaimed — 

"We're  come  to  the  bad  step,  now.  The  bad  road's 
beginning  upon  us,  please  your  honour." 

"Bad  road!  that  is  very  uncommon  in  this  country.  I 
never  saw  such  fine  roads  as  you  have  in  Ireland." 

' '  That's  true ;  and  God  bless  your  honour,  that's  sensible 
of  that  same,  for  it's  not  what  all  the  foreign  quality  I 
drive  have  the  manners  to  notice.  God  bless  your  honour ! 
I  heard  you're  a  Welshman,  but  whether  or  no,  I  am  sure 
you  are  a  gentleman,  anyway,  Welsh  or  other." 

Notwithstanding  the  shabby  greatcoat,  the  shrewd  pos- 
tillion perceived,  by  our  hero's  language,  that  he  was  a 
gentleman.  After  much  dragging  at  the  horses'  heads, 
and  pushing  and  lifting,  the  carriage  was  got  over  what 
the  postillion  said  was  the  worst  part  of  the  bad  step  ;  but 
as  the  road  "was  not  yet  to  say  good,"  he  continued  walk- 
ing beside  the  carriage. 

149 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"It's  only  bad  just  hereabouts,  and  that  by  accident," 
said  he,  "on  account  of  there  being  no  jantleman  resident 
in  it,  nor  near;  but  only  a  bit  of  an  under-agent,  a  great 
Httle  rogue,  who  gets  his  own  turn  out  of  the  roads,  and  of 
everything  else  in  life.  I,  Larry  Brady,  that  am  telling 
your  honour,  have  a  good  right  to  know,  for  myself,  and 
my  father,  and  my  brother.  Pat  Brady,  the  wheelwright, 
had  once  a  farm  under  him ;  but  was  ruined,  horse  and 
foot,  all  along  with  him,  and  cast  out,  and  my  brother 
forced  to  fly  the  country,  and  is  now  working  in  some 
coachmaker's-yard,  in  London;  banished  he  is! — and  here 
am  I,  forced  to  be  what  I  am — and  now  that  I'm  reduced 
to  drive  a  hack,  the  agent's  a  curse  to  me  still,  with  these 
bad  roads,  killing  my  horses  and  wheels — and  a  shame  to 
the  country,  which  I  think  more  of — Bad  luck  to  him !  " 

"I  know  your  brother;  he  lives  with  Mr.  Mordicai,  in 
Long  Acre,  in  London." 

"Oh,  God  bless  you  for  that !  " 

They  came  at  this  time  within  view  of  a  range  of  about 
four-and-twenty  men  and  boys,  sitting  astride  on  four-and- 
twenty  heaps  of  broken  stones,  on  each  side  of  the  road ; 
they  were  all  armed  with  hammers,  with  which  they  began 
to  pound  with  great  diligence  and  noise  as  soon  as  they 
saw  the  carriage.  The  chaise  passed  between  these  bat- 
teries, the  stones  flying  on  all  sides. 

"How  are  you,  Jem? — How  are  you,  Phil?  "  said  Larry. 
"But  hold  your  hand,  can't  ye,  while  I  stop  and  get  the 
stones  out  of  the  horses  feet.  So  you're  making  up  the 
rent,  are  you,  for  St.  Dennis?" 

"Whoosh!  "  said  one  of  the  pounders,  coming  close  to 
the  postillion,  and  pointing  his  thumb  back  towards  the 
chaise.     "Who  have  you  in  it?  " 

"Oh,  you  need  not  scruple,  he's  a  very  honest  man; — 

he's  only  a  man  from  North  Wales,  one  Mr.    Evans,  an 

innocent   jantleman,    that's    sent    over   to   travel   up  and 

down  the  country,  to  find  is  there  any  copper  mines  in  it. ' ' 

How  do  you  know,  Larry  ? ' ' 

"Because  I  know  very  well,  from  one  that  was  tould, 
and  I  see7i  him  tax  the  man  of  the  King's  Head,  with  a 

150 


THE  ABSENTEE 

copper  half-crown,  at  first  sight,  which  was  only  lead  to 
look  at,  you'd  think,  to  them  that  was  not  skilful  in  cop- 
per. So  lend  me  a  knife,  till  I  cut  a  linch-pin  out  of  the 
hedge,  for  this  one  won't  go  far." 

Whilst  Larry  was  making  the  linch-pin,  all  scruple  being 
removed,  his  question  about  St.  Dennis  and  the  rent  was 
answered. 

"Ay,  it's  the  rint,  sure  enough,  we're  pounding  out  for 
him ;  for  he  sent  the  driver  round  last-night-was-eight  days, 
to  warn  us  old  Nick  would  be  down  a'-Monday,  to  take  a 
sweep  among  us;  and  there's  only  six  clear  days,  Saturday 
night,  before  the  assizes,  sure;  so  we  must  see  and  get  it 
finished  anyway,  to  clear  the  presentment  again'  the  swear- 
ing day,  for  he  and  Paddy  Hart  is  the  overseers  themselves, 
and  Paddy  is  to  swear  to  it." 

"St.  Dennis,  is  it?  Then  you've  one  great  comfort  and 
security — that  he  won't  ho.  particular  about  the  swearing; 
for  since  ever  he  had  his  head  on  his  shoulders,  an  oath 
never  stuck  in  St.  Dennis's  throat,  more  than  in  his  own 
brother,  old  Nick's." 

"His  head  upon  his  shoulders!  "  repeated  Lord  Colam- 
bre.  "Pray,  did  you  ever  hear  that  St.  Dennis's  head 
was  off  his  shoulders?  " 

"It  never  was,  plase  your  honour,  to  my  knowledge." 

"Did  you  never,  among  your  saints,  hear  of  St.  Dennis 
carrying  his  head  in  his  hand?  "  said  Colambre. 

"The  r«r/ saint !  "  said  the  postillion,  suddenly  changing 
his  tone,  and  looking  shocked.  "Oh,  don't  be  talking 
that  way  of  the  saints,  pl<7se  your  honour." 

"Then  of  what  St.  Dennis  were  you  talking  just  now? — 
Whom  do  you  mean  by  St.  Dennis,  and  whom  do  you  call 
old  Nick?" 

"Old  Nick,"  answered  the  postillion,  coming  close  to 
the  side  of  the  carriage,  and  whispering — "Old  Nick,  plase 
your  honour,  is  our  nickname  for  one  Nicholas  Garraghty, 
Esq.,  of  College  Green,  Dublin,  and  St.  Dennis  is  his 
brother  Dennis,  who  is  old  Nick's  brother  in  all  things, 
and  would  fain  be  a  saint,  only  he  is  a  sinner.  Pie 
lives  just  by  here,   in  the  country,   under-agent  to  Lord 

151 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Clonbrony,  as  old  Nick  is  upper-agent — it's  only  a  joke 
among  the  people,  that  are  not  fond  of  them  at  all.  Lord 
Clonbrony  himself  is  a  very  good  jantleman,  if  he  was 
not  an  absentee,  resident  in  London,  leaving  us  and  every- 
thing to  the  likes  of  them." 

Lord  Colambre  listened  with  all  possible  composure  and 
attention  ;  but  the  postillion  having  now  made  his  linch-pin 
of  wood,  and  fixed  hunself,  he  mounted  his  bar,  and  drove 
on,  saying  to  Lord  Colambre,  as  he  looked  at  the  road- 
makers — 

"Poor  cratiircs  !  They  couldn't  keep  their  cattle  out  of 
pound,  or  themselves  out  of  jail,  but  by  making  this  road." 

"Is  road-making,  then,  a  very  profitable  business? — 
Have  road-makers  higher  wages  than  other  men  in  this 
part  of  the  country?  " 

"It  is,  and  it  is  not — they  have,  and  they  have  not — 
plase  your  honour." 

"I  don't  understand  you." 

"No,  becaase  you're  an  Englishman — that  is,  a  Welsh- 
man— I  beg  your  honour's  pardon.  But  I'll  tell  you  how 
that  is,  and  I'll  go  slow  over  these  broken  stones, — for  I 
can't  go  fast:  it  is  where  there's  no  jantleman  over  these 
under-agents,  as  here,  they  do  as  they  plase ;  and  when 
they  have  set  the  land  they  get  rasonable  from  the  head 
landlords,  to  poor  cratures  at  a  rack-rent,  that  they  can't 
live  and  pay  the  rent,  they  say " 

"Who  says?  " 

"Them  under-agents,  that  have  no  conscience  at  all. 
Not  all — but  j-c;«^,  like  Dennis,  says,  says  he,  'I'll  get  you 
a  road  to  make  up  the  rent' :  that  is,  plase  your  honour, 
the  agent  gets  them  a  presentment  for  so  many  perches  of 
road  from  the  grand  jury,  at  twice  the  price  that  would 
make  the  road.  And  tenants  are,  by  this  means,  as  they 
take  the  road  by  contract,  at  the  price  given  by  the  county, 
able  to  pay  all  they  get  by  the  job,  over  and  above  pota- 
toes and  salt,  back  again  to  the  agent,  for  the  arrear  on  the 
land.     Do  I  make  your  honour  sensible  .^  '  " 

"You  make  me  much   more  sensible  than  I  ever  was 

'  Do  I  make  you  understand? 


THE  ABSENTEE 

before,"  said  Lord  Colambre;  "but  is  not  this  cheating 
the  county? " 

"Well,  and  suppose,"  replied  Larry,  "is  not  it  all  for  my 
good,  and  yours  too,  plasc  your  honour?  "  said  Larry, 
looking  very  shrewdly. 

"My  good!"  said  Lord  Colambre,  startled.  "What 
have  I  to  do  with  it?" 

"Haven't  you  to  do  with  the  roads  as  well  as  me,  when 
you're  travelling  upon  them,  plase  your  honour?  And  sure, 
they'd  never  be  got  made  at  all,  if  they  weren't  made  this 
ways ;  and  it's  the  best  way  in  the  wide  world,  and  the  fin- 
est roads  we  have.  And  when  the  r^?r/ jantlemen's  resident 
in  the  country,  there's  no  jobbing  can  be,  because  they're 
then  the  leading  men  on  the  grand  jury ;  and  these  journey- 
men jantlemen  are  then  kept  in  order,  and  all's  right," 

Lord  Colambre  was  much  surprised  at  Larry's  knowledge 
of  the  manner  in  which  county  business  is  managed,  as 
well  as  by  his  shrewd  good  sense :  he  did  not  know  that 
this  is  not  uncommon  in  his  rank  of  life  in  Ireland. 

Whilst  Larry  was  speaking.  Lord  Colambre  was  looking 
from  side  to  side  at  the  desolation  of  the  prospect. 

"So  this  is  Lord  Clonbrony's  estate,  is  it?" 

"Ay,  all  you  see,  and  as  far  and  farther  than  you  can 
see.  My  Lord  Clonbrony  wrote,  and  ordered  plantations 
here,  time  back ;  and  enough  was  paid  to  labourers  for 
ditching  and  planting.  And,  what  next? — Why,  what  did 
the  under-agent  do,  but  let  the  goats  in  through  gaps,  left 
o'  purpose,  to  bark  the  trees,  and  then  the  trees  was  all 
banished.  And  next,  the  cattle  was  let  in  trespassing,  and 
winked  at,  till  the  land  was  all  poached ;  and  then  the  land 
was  waste,  and  cried  down;  and  St.  Dennis  wrote  up  to 
Dublin  to  old  Nick,  and  he  over  to  the  landlord,  how  none 
would  take  it,  or  bid  anything  at  all  for  it ;  so  then  it  fell 
to  him  a  cheap  bargain.  Oh,  the  tricks  of  them !  who 
knows  'em,  if  I  don't?  " 

Presently,  Lord  Colambre's  attention  was  roused  again, 
by  seeing  a  man  running,  as  if  for  his  life,  across  a  bog, 
near  the  roadside ;  he  leaped  over  the  ditch,  and  was  upon 
the  road  in  an  instant.     He  seemed  startled  at  first,  at  the 

153 


THE  ABSENTEE 

sight  of  the  carriage ;  but,  looking  at  the  postillion,  Larry- 
nodded,  and  he  smiled  and  said — 

"All's  safe!" 

"Pray,  my  good  friend,  may  I  ask  what  that  is  you 
have  on  your  shoulder?  "  said  Lord  Colambre. 

'' Plase  your  honour,  it  is  only  a  private  still,  which  I've 
just  caught  out  yonder  in  the  bog;  and  I'm  carrying  it  in 
with  all  speed  to  the  ganger,  to  make  a  discovery,  that  the 
jantleman  may  benefit  by  the  reward ;  I  expect  he'll  make 
me  a  compliment." 

"Get  up  behind,  and  I'll  give  you  a  lift,"  said  the 
postillion. 

' '  Thank  you  kindly —but  better  my  legs ! ' '  said  the  man ; 
and  turning  down  a  lane,  off  he  ran  again  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible. 

"Expect  he'll  make  me  a  compliment,"  repeated  Lord 
Colambre,  "to  make  a  discovery!  " 

"Ay,  plase  your  honour;  for  the  law  is,"  said  Larry, 
"that,  if  an  unlawful  still,  that  is,  a  still  without  license 
for  whisky,  is  found,  half  the  benefit  of  the  fine  that's  put 
upon  the  parish  goes  to  him  that  made  the  discovery ; 
that's  what  that  man  is  after,  for  he's  an  informer," 

"I  should  not  have  thought,  from  what  I  see  of  you," 
said  Lord  Colambre,  smiling,  "that  you,  Larry,  would 
have  offered  an  informer  a  lift." 

"Oh,  plase  your  honour!"  said  Larry,  smiling  archly, 
"would  not  I  give  the  laws  a  lift,  when  in  my  power? " 

Scarcely  had  he  uttered  these  words,  and  scarcely  was 
the  informer  out  of  sight,  when  across  the  same  bog,  and 
over  the  ditch,  came  another  man,  a  half  kind  of  gentle- 
man, with  a  red  silk  handkerchief  about  his  neck,  and  a 
silver-handled  whip  in  his  hand. 

"Did  you  see  any  man  pass  the  road,  friend?"  said  he 
to  the  postillion. 

"Oh!  who  would  I  see?  or  why  would  I  tell?"  replied 
Larry,  in  a  sulky  tone. 

"Come,  come,  be  smart!  "  said  the  man  with  the  silver 
whip,  offering  to  put  half  a  crown  into  the  postillion's 
hand;  "point  me  which  way  he  took." 

154 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"I'll  have  none  o'  your  silver!  don't  touch  me  with  it!  " 
said  Larry.  "But,  if  you'll  take  my  advice,  you'll  strike 
across  back,  and  follow  the  fields,,  out  to  Killogcnesawee." 

The  exciseman  set  out  again  immediately,  in  an  opposite 
direction  to  that  which  the  man  who  carried  the  still  had 
taken.  Lord  Colambre  now  perceived  that  the  pretended 
informer  had  been  running  off  to  conceal  a  still  of  his 
own. 

"The  ganger,  plase  your  honour,"  said  Larry,  looking 
back  at  Lord  Colambre;  "the  ganger  is  a  still-hunting !'' 

"And,  you  put  him  on  a  wrong  scent!"  said  Lord 
Colambre. 

"Sure,  I  told  him  no  lie;  I  only  said,  'If  you'll  take  my 
advice.'  And  why  was  he  such  a  fool  as  to  take  my  ad- 
vice, when  I  wouldn't  take  his  fee?  " 

"So  this  is  the  way,  Larry,  you  give  a  lift  to  the  laws!  " 

"If  the  laws  would  give  a  lift  to  me,  plase  your  honour, 
maybe  I'd  do  as  much  by  them.  But  it's  only  these 
revenue  laws  I  mean  ;  for  I  never,  to  my  knowledge,  broke 
another  commandment;  but  it's  what  no  honest  poor  man 
among  his  neighbours  would  scruple  to  take — a  glass  of 
pot  she  en.'' 

"A  glass  of  what,  in  the  name  of  Heaven?  "  said  Lord 
Colambre. 

" Potsheen,  plase  your  honour; — becaase  it's  the  little 
whisky  that's  made  in  the  private  still  or  pot ;  and  sheen, 
becaase  it's  a  fond  word  for  whatsoever  we'd  like,  and  for 
what  we  have  little  of,  and  would  make  much  of:  after 
taking  the  glass  of  it,  no  man  could  go  and  inform  to  ruin 
the  cratures ;  for  they  all  shelter  on  that  estate  under 
favour  of  them  that  go  shares,  and  make  rent  of  'em — but 
I'd  never  inform  again'  'em.  And,  after  all,  if  the  truth 
was  known,  and  my  Lord  Clonbrony  should  be  informed 
against,  and  presented,  for  it's  his  neglect  is  the  bottom  of 
the  nuisance " 

"I  find  all  the  blame  is  thrown  upon  this  poor  Lord 
Clonbrony,"  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"Becaase  he  is  absent,"  said  Larry.  "It  would  not  be 
so  was  he  prisint.     But  your  honour  was  talking  to  me 

155 


THE  ABSENTEE 

about  the  laws.  Your  honour's  a  stranger  in  this  country, 
and  astray  about  them  things.  Sure,  why  would  I  mind 
the  laws  about  whisky,  more  than  the  quality,  or  the  judge 
on  the  bench? " 

"What  do  you  mean?  " 

"Why!  was  not  I  prisint  in  the  court-house  myself, 
when  t\iQjidge  was  on  the  bench  judging  a  still,  and  across 
the  court  came  in  one  with  a  sly  jug  of  potsJieen  for  the 
jidge  himself,  who  prefarred  it,  when  the  right  thing,  to 
claret ;  and  when  I  seen  that,  by  the  laws !  a  man  might 
talk  himself  dumb  to  me  after  again'  potsheen,  or  in  favour 
of  the  revenue,  or  revenue-officers.  And  there  they  may 
go  on,  with  their  gaugers,  and  their  surveyors,  and  their 
supervisors,  and  their  ivatcJiing-officcrs,  and  their  coursing- 
officers,  setting  'em  one  after  another,  or  one  over  the 
head  of  another,  or  what  way  they  will — we  can  baffle  and 
laugh  at  'em.  Didn't  I  know,  next  door  to  our  inn,  last 
year,  ten  watching-officers  set  upon  one  distiller,  and  he 
was  too  cunning  for  them ;  and  it  will  always  be  so,  while 
ever  the  people  think  it  no  sin.  No,  till  then,  not  all  their 
dockets  and  permits  signify  a  rush,  or  a  turf.  And  the 
gauging  rod  even!  who  fears  it?  They  may  spare  that 
rod,  for  it  will  never  mend  the  child." 

How  much  longer  Larry's  dissertation  on  the  distillery 
laws  would  have  continued,  had  not  his  ideas  been  inter- 
rupted, we  cannot  guess;  but  he  saw  he  was  coming  to  a 
town,  and  he  gathered  up  the  reins,  and  plied  the  whip, 
ambitious  to  make  a  figure  in  the  eyes  of  its  inhabitants. 

This  town  consisted  of  one  row  of  miserable  huts,  sunk 
beneath  the  side  of  the  road,  the  mud  walls  crooked  in 
every  direction ;  some  of  them  opening  in  wide  cracks,  or 
zigzag  fissures,  from  top  to  bottom,  as  if  there  had  just 
been  an  earthquake — all  the  roofs  sunk  in  various  places — 
thatch  off,  or  overgrown  with  grass — no  chimneys,  the 
smoke  making  its  way  through  a  hole  in  the  roof,  or  rising 
in  clouds  from  the  top  of  the  open  door — dunghills  before 
the  doors,  and  green  standing  puddles — squalid  children, 
with  scarcely  rags  to  cover  them,  gazing  at  the  carriage. 

"Nugent's  town,"   said    the  postillion,   "once  a  snug 

156 


THE  ABSENTEE 

place,  when  my  Lady  Clonbrony  was  at  home  to  white- 
wash it,  and  the  hke." 

As  they  drove  by,  some  men  and  women  put  their  heads 
through  the  smoke  out  of  the  cabins;  pale  women  with 
long,  black,  or  yellow  locks — men  with  countenances  and 
figures  bereft  of  hope  and  energy. 

"Wretched,  wretched  people!  "  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"Then  it's  not  their  fault  neither,"  said  Larry;  "for  my 
own  uncle's  one  of  them,  and  as  thriving  and  hard  a  work- 
ing man  as  could  be  in  all  Ireland,  he  was,  afore  he  was 
tramped  under  foot,  and  his  heart  broke.  I  was  at  his 
funeral,  this  time  last  year;  and  for  it,  may  the  agent's 
own  heart,  if  he  has  any,  burn " 

Lord  Colambre  interrupted  this  denunciation  by  touch- 
ing Larry's  shoulder,  and  asking  some  question,  which,  as 
Larry  did  not  distinctly  comprehend,  he  pulled  up  the 
reins,  and  the  various  noises  of  the  vehicle  stopped  sud- 
denly. 

"I  did  not  hear  well,  plase  your  honour." 

"What  are  those  people?"  pointing  to  a  man  and  wo- 
man, curious  figures,  who  had  come  out  of  a  cabin,  the 
door  of  which  the  woman,  who  came  out  last,  locked,  and 
carefully  hiding  the  key  in  the  thatch,  turned  her  back 
upon  the  man,  and  they  walked  away  in  different  direc- 
tions: the  woman  bending  under  a  huge  bundle  on  her 
back,  covered  by  a  yellow  petticoat  turned  over  her 
shoulders ;  from  the  top  of  this  bundle  the  head  of  an  in- 
fant appeared;  a  little  boy,  almost  naked,  followed  her 
with  a  kettle,  and  two  girls,  one  of  whom  could  but  just 
walk,  held  her  hand  and  clung  to  her  ragged  petticoat ; 
forming,  altogether,  a  complete  group  of  beggars.  The 
woman  stopped,  and  looked  back  after  the  man. 

The  man  was  a  Spanish-looking  figure,  with  grey  hair; 
a  wallet  hung  at  the  end  of  a  stick  over  one  shoulder,  a 
reaping-hook  in  the  other  hand ;  he  walked  off  stoutly, 
without  ever  casting  a  look  behind  him. 

"A  kind  harvest  to  you,  John  Dolan,"  cried  the  postil- 
lion, "and  success  to  ye,  Winny,  with  the  quality.  There's 
a  luck-penny  for  the  child  to  begin  with,"  added  he,  throw- 

157 


THE  ABSENTEE 

ing  the  child  a  penny,  "Your  honour,  they're  only  poor 
cratiires  going  up  the  country  to  beg,  while  the  man  goes 
over  to  reap  the  harvest  in  England.  Nor  this  would  not 
be,  neither,  if  the  lord  was  in  it  to  give  'em  employ.  That 
man,  now,  was  a  good  and  a  willing  slave  in  his  day :  I 
mind  him  working  with  myself  in  the  shrubberies  at  Clon- 
brony  Castle,  when  I  was  a  boy — but  I'll  not  be  detaining 
your  honour,  now  the  road's  better." 

The  postillion  drove  on  at  a  good  rate  for  some  time, 
till  he  came  to  a  piece  of  the  road  freshly  covered  with 
broken  stones,  where  he  was  obliged  again  to  go  slowly. 

They  overtook  a  string  of  cars,  on  which  were  piled  up 
high,  beds,  tables,  chairs,  trunks,  boxes,  bandboxes. 

"How  are  you,  Finnucan?  you've  fine  loading  there — 
from  Dublin,  are  you?  " 

"From  Bray." 

"And  what  news?  " 

''Great  news  and  bad,  for  old  Nick,  or  some  belonging 
to  him,  thanks  be  to  Heaven!  for  myself  hates  him." 

"What's  happened  him?  " 

"His  sister's  husband  that's  failed,  the  great  grocer  that 
was,  the  man  that  had  the  wife  that  ow\i'  the  fine  house 
near  Bray,  that  they  got  that  time  the  Parliament  yf^V/r^, 
and  that  I  seen  in  her  carriage  flaming — well,  it's  all  out; 
they're  all  done  up." 

"Tut!  is  that  all?  then  they'll  thrive,  and  set  up  again 
grander  than  ever,  I'll  engage;  have  not  they  old  Nick  for 
an  attorney  at  their  back?  a  good  warrant!  " 

"Oh,  trust  him  for  that !  he  won't  ^^  security  nor  pay  a 
farthing  for  his  shister,  nor  wouldn't  was  she  his  father;  I 
heard  him  telling  her  so,  which  I  could  not  have  done  in 
his  place  at  that  time,  and  she  crying  as  if  her  heart  would 
break,  and  I  standing  by  in  the  parlour." 

"The  negerf^  And  did  he  speak  that  way,  and  you 
by?" 

"Ay  did  he;  and  said,  'Mrs.  Raffarty,'  says  he,  'it's  all 
your  own  fault;  you're  an  extravagant  fool,  and  ever  was, 

'  Owned. 

'  Neger,  quasi  negro  ;  meo  periculo,  niggard, 

158 


THE  ABSENTEE 

and  I  wash  my  hands  of  you' ;  that  was  the  word  he  spoke ; 
and  she  answered,  and  said,  'And  mayn't  I  send  the  beds 
and  blankets,'  said  she,  'and  what  I  can,  by  the  cars,  out 
of  the  way  of  the  creditors,  to  Clonbrony  Castle ;  and 
won't  you  let  me  hide  there  from  the  shame,  till  the 
bustle's  over?' — 'You  may  do  that,'  says  he,  'for  what  I 
care;  but  remember,'  says  he,  'that  I've  the  first  claim  to 
them  goods  ' ;  and  that's  all  he  would  grant.  So  they  are 
coming  down  all  o'  Monday — them  are  her  bandboxes 
and  all — to  settle  it ;  and  faith  it  was  a  pity  of  her !  to  hear 
her  sobbing,  and  to  see  her  own  brother  speak  and  look  so 
hard!  and  she  a  lady." 

"Sure  she's  not  a  lady  born,  no  more  than  himself," 
said  Larry;  "but  that's  no  excuse  for  him.  His  heart's 
as  hard  as  that  stone,"  said  Larry;  "and  my  own  people 
knew  that  long  ago,  and  now  his  own  know  it ;  and  what 
right  have  we  to  complain,  since  he's  as  bad  to  his  own 
flesh  and  blood  as  to  us? " 

With  this  consolation,  and  with  a  "God  speed  you," 
given  to  the  carman,  Larry  was  driving  off ;  but  the  car- 
man called  to  him,  and  pointed  to  a  house,  at  the  corner 
of  which,  on  a  high  pole,  was  swinging  an  iron  sign  of 
three  horse-shoes,  set  in  a  crooked  frame,  and  at  the  win- 
dow hung  an  empty  bottle,  proclaiming  whisky  within. 

"Well,  I  don't  care  if  I  do,"  said  Larry;  "for  Lve  no 
other  comfort  left  me  in  life  now.  I  beg  your  honour's 
pardon,  sir,  for  a  minute,"  added  he,  throwing  the  reins 
into  the  carriage  to  Lord  Colambre,  as  he  leaped  down. 
All  remonstrance  and  power  of  lungs  to  reclaim  him  vain ! 
He  darted  into  the  whisky-house  with  the  carman — reap- 
peared before  Lord  Colambre  could  accomplish  getting 
out,  remounted  his  seat,  and,  taking  the  reins,  "I  thank 
your  honour,"  said  he ;  "and  I'll  bring  you  into  Clonbrony 
before  it's  pitch-dark  yet,  though  it's  nightfall,  and  that's 
four  good  miles,  but  'a  spur  in  the  head  is  worth  two  in 
the  heel.' 

Larry,  to  demonstrate  the  truth  of  his  favourite  axiom, 
drove  off  at  such  a  furious  rate  over  great  stones  left  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  by  carmen,  who  had  been  driving  in  the 

159 


THE  ABSENTEE 

gudgeons  of  their  axle-trees  to  hinder  them  from  lacing,' 
that  Lord  Colambre  thought  life  and  limb  in  imminent 
danger;  and  feeling  that  at  all  events  the  jolting  and 
bumping  was  past  endurance,  he  had  recourse  to  Larry's 
shoulder,  and  shook  and  pulled,  and  called  to  him  to  go 
slower,  but  in  vain;  at  last  the  wheel  struck  full  against  a 
heap  of  stones  at  a  turn  of  the  road,  the  wooden  linch-pin 
came  off,  and  the  chaise  was  overset :  Lord  Colambre  was 
a  little  bruised,  but  glad  to  escape  without  fractured  bones. 

"I  beg  your  honour's  pardon,"  said  Larry,  completely 
sobered;  "I'm  as  glad  as  the  best  pair  of  boots  ever  I  see, 
to  see  your  honour  nothing  the  worse  for  it.  It  was  the 
linch-pin,  and  them  barrows  of  loose  stones,  that  ought  to 
be  fined  anyway,  if  there  was  any  justice  in  the  country." 

"The  pole  is  broke;  how  are  we  to  get  on?  "  said  Lord 
Colambre. 

"Murder!  murder! — and  no  smith  nearer  than  Clon- 
brony ;  nor  rope  even.  It's  a  folly  to  talk,  we  can't  get  to 
Clonbrony,  nor  stir  a  step  backward  or  forward  the  night." 

"What,  then,  do  you  mean  to  leave  me  all  night  in  the 
middle  of  the  road?"  cried  Lord  Colambre,  quite  exas- 
perated. 

"Is  it  me!  please  your  honour?  I  would  not  use  any 
jantleman  so  ill,  barring  I  could  do  no  other,"  replied  the 
postillion,  coolly ;  then,  leaping  across  the  ditch,  or,  as  he 
called  it,  the  gripe  of  the  ditch,  he  scrambled  up,  and  while 
he  was  scrambling,  said,  "If  your  honour  will  lend  me  your 
hand  till  I  pull  you  up  the  back  of  the  ditch,  the  horses 
will  stand  while  we  go.  I'll  find  you  as  pretty  a  lodging 
for  the  night,  with  a  widow  of  a  brother  of  my  shister's 
husband  that  was,  as  ever  you  slept  in  your  life ;  for  old 
Nick  or  St.  Dennis  has  not  found  'em  out  yet ;  and  your 
honour  will  be,  no  compare,  snugger  than  the  inn  at  Clon- 
brony, which  has  no  roof,  the  devil  a  stick.  But  where 
will  I  get  your  honour's  hand;  for  it's  coming  on  so  dark, 
I  can't  see  rightly.  There,  you're  up  now  safe.  Yonder 
candle's  the  house." 

"Go  and  ask  whether  they  can  give  us  a  night's  lodging." 

'  Opening ;  perhaps  frona  lacker,  to  loosen. 

i6o 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Is  it  ask  ?  when  I  see  the  light ! — Sure  they'd  be  proud 
to  give  the  traveller  all  the  beds  in  the  house,  let  alone 
one.  Take  care  of  the  potato  furrows,  that's  all,  and  fol- 
low me  straight.  I'll  go  on  to  meet  the  dog,  who  knows 
me  and  might  be  strange  to  your  honour." 

"Kindly  welcome,"  were  the  first  words  Lord  Colambre 
heard  when  he  approached  the  cottage;  and  "kindly  wel- 
come" was  in  the  sound  of  the  voice  and  in  the  countenance 
of  the  old  woman  who  came  out,  shading  her  rush-candle 
from  the  wind,  and  holding  it  so  as  to  light  the  path. 
When  he  entered  the  cottage,  he  saw  a  cheerful  fire  and  a 
neat  pretty  young  woman  making  it  blaze:  she  curtsied, 
put  her  spinning-wheel  out  of  the  way,  set  a  stool  by  the 
fire  for  the  stranger,  and  repeating,  in  a  very  low  tone  of 
voice,  "Kindly  welcome,  sir,"  retired. 

"Put  down  some  eggs,  dear,  there's  plenty  in  the  bowl," 
said  the  old  woman,  calling  to  her;  "I'll  do  the  bacon. 
Was  not  we  lucky  to  be  up? — The  boy's  gone  to  bed,  but 
waken  him,"  said  she,  turning  to  the  postillion  ;  "and  he'll 
help  you  with  the  chay,  and  put  your  horses  in  the  bier 
for  the  night." 

No ;  Larry  chose  to  go  on  to  Clonbrony  with  the  horses, 
that  he  might  get  the  chaise  mended  betimes  for  his 
honour.  The  table  was  set ;  clean  trenchers,  hot  potatoes, 
milk,  eggs,  bacon,  and  "kindly  welcome  to  all." 

"Set  the  salt,  dear;  and  the  butter,  love;  where's  your 
head,  Grace,  dear?  " 

"Grace!  "  repeated  Lord  Colambre,  looking  up;  and,  to 
apologise  for  his  involuntary  exclamation,  he  added,  "Is 
Grace  a  common  name  in  Ireland?  " 

"I  can't  say,  plase  your  honour,  but  it  was  give  her  by 
Lady  Clonbrony,  from  a  niece  of  her  own  that  was  her 
foster-sister,  God  bless  her!  and  a  very  kind  lady  she  was 
to  us  and  to  all  when  she  was  living  in  it ;  but  those  times 
are  gone  past,"  said  the  old  woman,  with  a  sigh.  The 
young  woman  sighed  too ;  and,  sitting  down  by  the  fire, 
began  to  count  the  notches  in  a  little  bit  of  stick,  which 
she  held  in  her  hand ;  and,  after  she  had  counted  them, 
sighed  again. 

"  i6i 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"But  don't  be  sighing,  Grace,  now,"  said  the  old  wo- 
man; "sighs  is  bad  sauce  for  the  traveller's  supper;  and 
we  won't  be  troubling  him  with  more,"  added  she,  turning 
to  Lord  Colambre  with  a  smile. 

"Is  your  egg  done  to  your  liking? " 

"Perfectly,  thank  you." 

"Then  I  wish  it  was  a  chicken  for  your  sake,  which  it 
should  have  been,  and  roast  too,  had  we  time.  I  wish  I 
could  see  you  eat  another  Qgg." 

"No  more,  thank  you,  my  good  lady;  I  never  ate  a 
better  supper,  nor  received  a  more  hospitable  welcome." 

"Oh,  the  welcome  is  all  we  have  to  offer." 

"May  I  ask  what  that  is?  "  said  Lord  Colambre,  looking 
at  the  notched  stick,  which  the  young  woman  held  in  her 
hand,  and  on  which  her  eyes  were  still  fixed. 

"lt'sa.ta//y,  plase  your  honour.  Oh,  you're  a  foreigner; 
— it's  the  way  the  labourers  do  keep  the  account  of  the 
day's  work  with  the  overseer,  the  bailiff;  a  notch  for  every 
day  the  bailiff  makes  on  his  stick,  and  the  labourer  the  like 
on  his  stick,  to  tally ;  and  when  we  come  to  make  up  the 
account,  it's  by  the  notches  we  go.  And  there's  been  a 
mistake,  and  is  a  dispute  here  between  our  boy  and  the 
overseer;  and  she  was  counting  the  boy's  tally,  that's  in 
bed,  tired,  for  in  troth  he's  overworked." 

"Would  you  want  anything  more  from  me,  mother?" 
said  the  girl,  rising  and  turning  her  head  away. 

"No,  child;  get  away,  for  your  heart's  full." 

She  went  instantly. 

"Is  the  boy  her  brother?  "  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"No;  he's  her  bachelor,"  said  the  old  woman,  lowering 
her  voice. 

"Her  bachelor?  " 

"That  is,  her  sweetheart:  for  she  is  not  my  daughter, 
though  you  heard  her  call  me  mother.  The  boy's  my 
son  ;  but  I  am  a/card  they  must  give  it  up  ;  for  they're  too 
poor,  and  the  times  is  hard,  and  the  agent's  harder  than 
the  times;  there's  two  of  them,  the  under  and  the  upper; 
and  they  grind  the  substance  of  one  between  them,  and 
then  blow  one  away  like  chaff:  but  we'll  not  be  talking 

162 


THE  ABSENTEE 

of  that  to  spoil  your  honour's  night's  rest.  The  room's 
ready,  and  here's  the  rushlight." 

She  showed  him  into  a  very  small  but  neat  room. 
"What  a  comfortable-looking  bed!  "  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"Ah,  these  red  check  curtains,"  said  she,  letting  them 
down;  "these  have  lasted  well;  they  were  give  me  by  a 
good  friend,  now  far  away,  over  the  seas — my  Lady  Clon- 
brony ;  and  made  by  the  prettiest  hands  ever  you  see,  her 
niece's.  Miss  Grace  Nugent's,  and  she  a  little  child  that 
time ;  sweet  love !  all  gone ! ' ' 

The  old  woman  wiped  a  tear  from  her  eye,  and  Lord 
Colambre  did  what  he  could  to  appear  indifferent.  She 
set  down  the  candle,  and  left  the  room ;  Lord  Colambre 
went  to  bed,  but  he  lay  awake,  "revolving  sweet  and  bitter 
thoughts." 

CHAPTER   XI 

THE  kettle  was  on  the  fire,  tea-things  set,  everything 
prepared  for  her  guest  by  the  hospitable  hostess, 
who,  thinking  the  gentleman  would  take  tea  to  his 
breakfast,  had  sent  off  a  gossoon  by  the  first  light  to  Clon- 
brony,  for  an  ounce  of  tea,  a  quarter  of  sugar,  and  a  loaf 
of  white  bread ;  and  there  was  on  the  little  table  good 
cream,  milk,  butter,  eggs — all  the  promise  of  an  excellent 
breakfast.  It  was  afresh  morning,  and  there  was  a  pleas- 
ant fire  on  the  hearth,  neatly  swept  up.  The  old  woman 
was  sitting  in  her  chimney  corner,  behind  a  little  skreen  of 
whitewashed  wall,  built  out  into  the  room,  for  the  purpose 
of  keeping  those  who  sat  at  the  fire  from  the  blast  of  the 
door.  There  was  a  loophole  in  this  wall,  to  let  the  light 
in,  just  at  the  height  of  a  person's  head,  who  was  sitting 
near  the  chimney.  The  rays  of  the  morning  sun  now  came 
through  it,  shining  across  the  face  of  the  old  woman,  as 
she  sat  knitting ;  Lord  Colambre  thought  he  had  seldom 
seen  a  more  agreeable  countenance,  intelligent  eyes,  benev- 
olent smile,  a  natural  expression  of  cheerfulness,  subdued 
by  age  and  misfortune. 

"A  good  morrow  to  you  kindly,  sir,  and  I  hope  you 

163 


THE  ABSENTEE 

got  the  night  well? — A  fine  day  for  us  this  Sunday  morn- 
ing;  my  Grace  is  gone  to  early  prayers,  so  your  honour 
will  be  content  with  an  old  woman  to  make  your  breakfast. 
Oh,  let  me  put  in  plenty,  or  it  will  never  be  good ;  and  if 
your  honour  takes  stir-about,  an  old  hand  will  engage  to 
make  that  to  your  liking,  anyway;  for,  by  great  happiness, 
we  have  what  will  just  answer  for  you  of  the  nicest  meal 
the  miller  made  my  Grace  a  compliment  of,  last  time  she 
went  to  the  mill." 

Lord  Colambre  observed,  that  this  miller  had  good  taste; 
and  his  lordship  paid  some  compliment  to  Grace's  beauty, 
which  the  old  woman  received  with  a  smile,  but  turned  off 
the  conversation.  "Then,"  said  she,  looking  out  of  the 
window,  "is  not  that  there  a  nice  little  garden  the  boy  dug 
for  her  and  me,  at  his  breakfast  and  dinner  hours?  Ah! 
he's  a  good  boy,  and  a  good  warrant  to  work;  and  the 
good  son  desarves  the  good  wife,  and  it's  he  that  will  make 
the  good  husband ;  and  with  my  goodwill  he,  and  no  other, 
shall  get  her,  and  with  her  goodwill  the  same ;  and  I  bid 
'em  keep  up  their  heart,  and  hope  the  best,  for  there's  no 
use  in  fearing  the  worst  till  it  comes." 

Lord  Colambre  wished  very  much  to  know  the  worst. 

"If  you  would  not  think  a  stranger  impertinent  for  ask- 
ing," said  he,  "and  if  it  would  not  be  painful  to  you  to 
explain." 

"Oh,  impertinent,  your  honour!  it's  very  kind — and, 
sure,  none's  a  stranger  to  one's  heart,  that  feels  for  one. 
And  for  myself,  I  can  talk  of  my  troubles  without  thinking 
of  them.  So,  I'll  tell  you  all — if  the  worst  comes  to  the 
worst — all  that  is,  is,  that  we  must  quit,  and  give  up  this 
little  snug  place,  and  house,  and  farm,  and  all,  to  the  agent 
— which  would  be  hard  on  us,  and  me  a  widow,  when  my 
husband  did  all  that  is  done  to  the  land;  and  if  your 
honour  was  a  judge,  you  could  see,  if  you  stepped  out, 
there  has  been  a  deal  done,  and  built  the  house,  and  all  — 
but  it  plased  Heaven  to  take  him.  Well,  he  was  too  good 
for  this  world,  and  I'm  satisfied — I'm  not  saying  a  word 
again*  that — I  trust  we  shall  meet  in  heaven,  and  be 
h^PPy>  surely.     And,  meantime,  here's  my  boy,  that  will 

164 


THE  ABSENTEE 

make  me  as  happy  as  ever  widow  was  on  earth — if  the 
agent  will  let  him.  And  I  can't  think  the  agent,  though 
they  that  know  him  best  call  him  old  Nick,  would  be  so 
wicked  to  take  from  us  that  which  he  never  gave  us.  The 
good  lord  himself  granted  us  the  lase;  the  life's  dropped, 
and  the  years  is  out ;  but  we  had  a  promise  of  renewal  in 
writing  from  the  landlord.  God  bless  him !  if  he  was  not 
away,  he'd  be  a  good  gentleman,  and  we'd  be  happy  and 
safe." 

"But  if  you  have  a  promise  in  writing  of  a  renewal, 
surely  you  are  safe,  whether  your  landlord  is  absent  or 
present?  " 

"Ah,  no !  that  makes  a  great  differ,  when  there's  no  eye 
or  hand  over  the  agent.  I  would  not  wish  to  speak  or 
think  ill  of  him  or  any  man ;  but  was  he  an  angel,  he  could 
not  know  to  do  the  tenantry  justice,  the  way  he  is  living 
always  in  Dublin,  and  coming  down  to  the  country  only 
the  receiving  days,  to  make  a  sweep  among  us,  and  gather 
up  the  rents  in  a  hurry,  and  he  in  such  haste  back  to  town 
— can  just  stay  to  count  over  our  money,  and  give  the  re- 
ceipts. Happy  for  us,  if  we  get  that  same! — ^but  can't 
expect  he  should  have  time  to  see  or  hear  us,  or  mind  our 
improvements,  any  more  than  listen  to  our  complaints ! 
Oh,  there's  great  excuse  for  the  gentleman,  if  that  was  any 
comfort  for  us,"  added  she,  smiling. 

"But,  if  he  does  not  live  amongst  you  himself,  has  not 
he  some  under-agent,  who  lives  in  the  country?"  said 
Lord  Colambre. 

"He  has  so." 

"And  he  should  know  your  concerns:  does  he  mind 
them? " 

"He  should  know — he  should  know  better;  but  as  to 
minding  our  concerns,  your  honour  knows,"  continued 
she,  smiling  again,  "every  one  in  this  world  must  mind 
their  own  concerns;  and  it  would  be  a  good  world,  if  it 
was  even  so.  There's  a  great  deal  in  all  things,  that  don't 
appear  at  first  sight.  Mr.  Dennis  wanted  Grace  for  a  wife 
for  his  bailiff,  but  she  would  not  have  him;  and  Mr. 
Dennis  was  very  sweet  to  her  himself — but  Grace  is  rather 

165 


THE  ABSENTEE 

high  with  him  as  proper,  and  he  has  a  grudge  again  us 
ever  since.  Yet,  indeed,  there,"  added  she,  after  another 
pause,  "as  you  say,  I  think  we  are  safe;  for  we  have  that 
memorandum  in  writing,  with  a  pencil,  given  under  his  own 
hand,  on  the  back  of  the  lase,  to  me,  by  the  same  token 
when  my  good  lord  had  his  foot  on  the  step  of  the  coach, 
going  away;  and  I'll  never  forget  the  smile  of  her  that  got 
that  good  turn  done  for  me.  Miss  Grace.  And  just  when 
she  was  going  to  England  and  London,  and,  young  as  she 
was,  to  have  the  thought  to  stop  and  turn  to  the  likes  of 
me!  Oh,  then,  if  you  could  see  her,  and  know  her,  as  I 
did!  That  was  the  comforting  angel  upon  earth — look 
and  voice,  and  heart  and  all !  Oh,  that  she  was  here  pre- 
sent, this  minute! — But  did  you  scald  yourself?"  said  the 
widow  to  Lord  Colambre.  "Sure  you  must  have  scalded 
yourself;  for  you  poured  the  kettle  straight  over  your 
hand,  and  it  boiling! — O  deear  !  to  think  of  so  young  a 
gentleman's  hand  shaking  so  like  my  own." 

Luckily,  to  prevent  her  pursuing  her  observations  from 
the  hand  to  the  face,  which  might  have  betrayed  more 
than  Lord  Colambre  wished  she  should  know,  her  own 
Grace  came  in  at  this  instant. 

"There  it's  for  you,  safe,  mother  dear — the  lase  !  "  said 
Grace,  throwing  a  packet  into  her  lap.  The  old  woman 
lifted  up  her  hands  to  heaven,  with  the  lease  between 
them. — "Thanks  be  to  Heaven!"  Grace  passed  on,  and 
sunk  down  on  the  first  seat  she  could  reach.  Her  face 
flushed,  and,  looking  much  fatigued,  she  loosened  the 
strings  of  her  bonnet  and  cloak — "Then,  I'm  tired"; 
but,  recollecting  herself,  she  rose,  and  curtsied  to  the 
gentleman. 

"What  tired  ye,  dear?" 

"Why,  after  prayers,  we  had  to  go — for  the  agent  was 
not  at  prayers,  nor  at  home  for  us,  when  we  called — we 
had  to  go  all  the  way  up  to  the  castle ;  and  there,  by  great 
good  luck,  we  found  Mr.  Nick  Garraghty  himself,  come 
from  Dublin,  and  the  lase  in  his  hands;  and  he  sealed  it 
up  that  way,  and  handed  it  to  me  very  civil.  I  never  saw 
him   so  good — though  he  offered   me  a  glass    of  spirits, 

i66 


THE  ABSENTEE 

which  was  not  manners  to  a  decent  young  woman,  in  a 
morning — as  Brian  notiqed  after.  Brian  would  not  take 
any  either,  nor  never  does.  We  met  Mr.  Dennis  and  the 
driver  coming  home ;  and  he  says,  the  rent  must  be  paid 
to-morrow,  or,  instead  of  renewing,  he'll  seize  and  sell  all. 
Mother  dear,  I  would  have  dropped  with  the  walk,  but  for 
Brian's  arm." — "It's  a  wonder,  dear,  what  makes  you  so 
weak,  that  used  to  be  so  strong." — "But  if  we  can  sell  the 
cow  for  anything  at  all  to  Mr.  Dennis,  since  his  eye  is  set 
upon  her,  better  let  him  have  her,  mother  dear ;  and  that 
and  my  yarn,  which  Mrs.  Garraghty  says  she'll  allow  me 
for,  will  make  up  the  rent — and  Brian  need  not  talk  of 
America.  But  it  must  be  in  golden  guineas,  the  agent 
will  take  the  rent  no  other  way;  and  you  won't  get  a 
guinea  for  less  than  five  shillings.  Well,  even  so,  it's  easy 
selling  my  new  gown  to  one  that  covets  it,  and  that  will 
give  me  in  exchange  the  price  of  the  gold ;  or,  suppose 
that  would  not  do,  add  this  cloak, — it's  handsome,  and  I 
know  a  friend  would  be  glad  to  take  it,  and  I'd  part  it  as 
ready  as  look  at  it — Anything  at  all,  sure,  rather  than  that 
he  should  be  forced  to  talk  of  emigrating;  or,  oh,  worse 
again,  listing  for  the  bounty — to  save  us  from  the  cant  or 
the  jail,  by  going  to  the  hospital,  or  his  grave,  maybe — 
Oh,  mother!  " 

"Oh,  child!  This  is  what  makes  you  weak,  fretting. 
Don't  be  that  way.  Sure  here's  the  lase,  and  that's  good 
comfort ;  and  the  soldiers  will  be  gone  out  of  Clonbrony 
to-morrow,  and  then  that's  oiT  your  mind.  And  as  to 
America,  it's  only  talk — I  won't  let  him,  he's  dutiful;  and 
would  sooner  sell  my  dresser  and  down  to  my  bed,  dear, 
than  see  you  sell  anything  of  yours,  love.  Promise  me 
you  won't.  Why  didn't  Brian  come  home  all  the  way  with 
you,  Grace?  " 

"He  would  have  seen  me  home,"  said  Grace,  "only 
that  he  went  up  a  piece  of  the  mountain  for  some  stones 
or  ore  for  the  gentleman — for  he  had  the  manners  to  think 
of  him  this  morning,  though,  shame  for  me,  I  had  not, 
when  I  come  in,  or  I  would  not  have  told  you  all  this,  and 
he  himself  by.     See,  there  he  is,  mother." 

167 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Brian  came  in  very  hot,  out  of  breath,  with  his  hat  full 
of  stones.  "Good  morrow  to  your  honour.  I  was  in  bed 
last  night;  and  sorry  they  did  not  call  me  up  to  be  of 
sarvice.  Larry  was  telling  us,  this  morning,  your  honour's 
from  Wales,  and  looking  for  mines  in  Ireland,  and  I  heard 
talk  that  there  was  one  on  our  mountain — maybe,  you'd 
be  enrolls  to  see,  and  so  I  brought  the  best  I  could,  but  I'm 
no  judge." 

"Nor  I,  neither,"  thought  Lord  Colambre;  but  he 
thanked  the  young  man,  and  determined  to  avail  himself 
of  Larry's  misconception  or  false  report;  examined  the 
stones  very  gravely,  and  said,  "This  promises  well.  Lapis 
caliminaris,  schist,  plum-pudding  stone,  rhomboidal,  crys- 
tal, blend,  garrawachy,"  and  all  the  strange  names  he  could 
think  of,  jumbling  them  together  at  a  venture. 

"The  lasc  ! — Is  it?"  cried  the  young  man,  with  joy 
sparkling  in  his  eyes,  as  his  mother  held  up  the  packet. 
"Then  all's  safe!  and  he's  an  honest  man,  and  shame  on 
me,  that  could  suspect  he  meant  us  wrong.  Lend  me  the 
papers." 

He  cracked  the  seals,  and  taking  off  the  cover, — "It's 
the  lasc,  sure  enough.  Shame  on  me ! — But  stay,  where's 
the  memorandum?  " 

"It's  there,  sure,"  said  his  mother,  "where  my  lord's 
pencil  writ  it.     I  don't  read. — Grace,  dear,  look." 

The  young  man  put  it  into  her  hands,  and  stood  without 
power  to  utter  a  syllable. 

"It's  not  here!     It's  gone! — no  sign  of  it." 

"Gracious  Heaven  !  that  can't  be,"  said  the  old  woman, 
putting  on  her  spectacles;  "let  me  see — I  remember  the 
very  spot." 

"It's  taken  away — it's  rubbed  clean  out! — Oh,  wasn't  I 
a  fool?  But  who  could  have  thought  he'd  be  the  villain  !  " 
The  young  man  seemed  neither  to  see  nor  hear;  but  to 
be  absorbed  in  thought. 

Grace,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  grew  as  pale  as 
death — "He'll  go — he's  gone." 

"She's  gone!"  cried  Lord  Colambre,  and  the  mother 
just  caught  her  in  her  arms  as  she  was  falling. 

i68 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"The  chaise  is  ready, //^j-^  your  honour,"  said  Larry, 
coming  into  the  room.     "Death!  what's  here?  " 

"Air ! — she's  coming  to,"  said  the  young  man — "Take  a 
drop  of  water,  my  own  Grace. 

"Young  man,  I  promise  you,"  cried  Lord  Colambre 
(speaking  in  the  tone  of  a  master),  striking  the  young 
man's  shoulder,  who  was  kneeling  at  Grace  feet ;  but  recol- 
lecting and  restraining  himself,  he  added,  in  a  quiet  voice 
— "I  promise  you  I  shall  never  forget  the  hospitality  I 
have  received  in  this  house,  and  I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged 
to  leave  you  in  distress." 

These  words  uttered  with  difficulty,  he  hurried  out  of 
the  house,  and  into  his  carriage.  "Go  back  to  them," 
said  he  to  the  postillion;  "go  back  and  ask  whether,  if  I 
should  stay  a  day  or  two  longer  in  this  country,  they 
would  let  me  return  at  night  and  lodge  with  them.  And 
here,  man,  stay,  take  this,"  putting  money  into  his  hands, 
"for  the  good  woman  of  the  house." 

The  postillion  went  in,  and  returned. 

"She  won't  at  all — I  knew  she  would  not." 

"Well,  I  am  obliged  to  her  for  the  night's  lodging  she 
did  give  me;  I  have  no  right  to  expect  more." 

"What  is  it? — Sure  she  bid  me  tell  you — 'and  welcome 
to  the  lodging;  for,'  said  she,  'he  is  a  kind-hearted  gentle- 
man';  but  here's  the  money;  it's  that  I  was  telling  you 
she  would  not  have  at  all." 

"Thank  you.  Now,  my  good  friend  Larry,  drive  me.to 
Clonbrony,  and  do  not  say  another  word,  for  I'm  not  in  a 
talking  humour." 

Larry  nodded,  mounted,  and  drove  to  Clonbrony, 
Clonbrony  was  now  a  melancholy  scene.  The  houses, 
which  had  been  built  in  a  better  style  of  architecture  than 
usual,  were  in  a  ruinous  condition  ;  the  dashing  was  off  the 
walls,  no  glass  in  the  windows,  and  many  of  the  roofs  with- 
out slates.  For  the  stillness  of  the  place  Lord  Colambre 
in  some  measure  accounted,  by  considering  that  it  was 
Sunday ;  therefore,  of  course,  all  the  shops  were  shut  up, 
and  all  the  people  at  prayers.  He  alighted  at  the  inn, 
which  completely  answered  Larry's  representation   of  it. 

169 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Nobody  to  be  seen  but  a  drunken  waiter,  who,  as  well  as 
he  could  articulate,  informed  Lord  Colambre  that  "his 
mistress  was  in  her  bed  since  Thursday-was-a-week;  the 
hostler  at  the  wash-woman'' s,  and  the  cook  at  second 
prayers." 

Lord  Colambre  walked  to  the  church,  but  the  church 
gate  was  locked  and  broken — a  calf,  two  pigs,  and  an  ass, 
in  the  churchyard;  and  several  boys  (with  more  of  skin 
apparent  than  clothes)  were  playing  at  hustlecap  upon  a 
tombstone,  which,  upon  nearer  observation,  he  saw  was 
the  monument  of  his  own  family.  One  of  the  boys  came 
to  the  gate,  and  told  Lord  Colambre  "there  was  no  use  in 
going  into  the  church,  becaase  there  was  no  church  there; 
nor  had  not  been  this  twelve-month  ;  becaase  there  was  no 
curate;  and  the  parson  was  away  always,  since  the  lord 
was  at  home — that  is,  was  not  at  home — he  nor  the  family." 

Lord  Colambre  returned  to  the  inn,  where,  after  waiting 
a  considerable  time,  he  gave  up  the  point — he  could  not 
get  any  dinner — and  in  the  evening  he  walked  out  again 
into  the  town.  He  found  several  ale-houses,  however, 
open,  which  were  full  of  people;  all  of  them  as  busy  and 
as  noisy  as  possible.  He  observed  that  the  interest  was 
created  by  an  advertisement  of  several  farms  on  the  Clon- 
brony  estate,  to  be  set  by  Nicholas  Garraghty,  Esq.  He 
could  not  help  smiling  at  his  being  witness  incognito  to 
various  schemes  for  outwitting  the  agents  and  defrauding 
the  landlord;  but,  on  a  sudden,  the  scene  was  changed;  a 
boy  ran  in,  crying  out,  that  "St.  Dennis  was  riding  down 
the  hill  into  the  town;  and,  if  you  would  not  have  the 
license,"  said  the  boy,  "take  care  of  yourself." 

''  If  you  ivouldnt  have  the  license,"  Lord  Colambre  per- 
ceived, by  what  followed,  meant,  "If  you  have  not  a 
license."  Brannagan  immediately  snatched  an  untasted 
glass  of  whisky  from  a  customer's  lips  (who  cried.  Murder !), 
gave  it  and  the  bottle  he  held  in  his  hand  to  his  wife,  who 
swallowed  the  spirits,  and  ran  away  with  the  bottle  and 
glass  into  some  back  hole ;  whilst  the  bystanders  laughed, 
saying,  "Well  thought  of,  Peggy!  " 

"Clear  out  all  of  you  at  the  back  door,  for  the  love  of 

170 


THE  ABSENTEE 

heaven,  if  you  wouldn't  be  the  ruin  of  me,"  said  the  man 
of  the  house,  setting  a  ladder  to  a  corner  of  the  shop. 
"Phil,  hoist  me  up  the  keg  to  the  loft,"  added  he,  running 
up  the  ladder;  "and  one  of  yces  step  up  street,  and  give 
Rose  M'Givney  notice,  for  she's  selling  too." 

The  keg  was  hoisted  up ;  the  ladder  removed ;  the  shop 
cleared  of  all  the  customers ;  the  shutters  shut ;  the  door 
barred;  the  counter  cleaned.  "Lift  your  stones,  sir,  if 
you  plase,"  said  the  wife,  as  she  rubbed  the  counter,  "and 
say  nothing  of  what  you  seen  at  all;  but  that  you're  a 
stranger  and  a  traveller  seeking  a  lodging,  if  you're  ques- 
tioned, or  waiting  to  see  Mr,  Dennis.  There's  no  smell 
of  whisky  in  it  now,  is  there,  sir? " 

Lord  Colambre  could  not  flatter  her  so  far  as  to  say  this 
— he  could  only  hope  no  one  would  perceive  it. 

"Oh,  and  if  Z-t' would,  the  smell  of  whisky  was  nothing," 
as  the  wife  affirmed,  "for  it  was  everywhere  in  nature,  and 
no  proof  again'  any  one,  good  or  bad." 

"Now  St.  Dennis  may  come  when  he  will,  or  old  Nick 
himself!"  So  she  tied  up  a  blue  handkerchief  over  her 
head,  and  had  the  toothache,  "very  bad." 

Lord  Colambre  turned  to  look  for  the  man  of  the  house. 

"He's  safe  in  bed,"  said  the  wife. 

"In  bed!     When?" 

"Whilst  you  turned  your  head,  while  I  was  tying  the 
handkerchief  over  my  face.  Within  the  room,  look,  he  is 
snug." 

And  there  he  was  in  bed  certainly,  and  his  clothes  on 
the  chest. 

A  knock,  a  loud  knock  at  the  door. 

"St.  Dennis  himself! — Stay,  till  I  unbar  the  door,"  said 
the  woman ;  and,  making  a  great  difficulty,  she  let  him  in, 
groaning,  and  saying — 

"We  was  all  done  up  for  the  night,  J>/ase  your  honour, 
and  myself  with  the  toothache,  very  bad — And  the  lodger, 
that's  going  to  take  an  egg  only,  before  he'd  go  into  his 
bed.     My  man's  in  it,  and  asleep  long  ago." 

With  a  magisterial  air,  though  with  a  look  of  blank 
disappointment,  Mr.  Dennis  Garraghty  walked  on,  looked 

171 


THE  ABSENTEE 

into  the  room,  saw  the  good  man  of  the  house  asleep,  heard 
him  snore,  and  then,  returning,  asked  Lord  Colambre  "who 
he  was,  and  what  brought  him  there?  " 

Our  hero  said  he  was  from  England,  and  a  traveller; 
and  now,  bolder  grown  as  a  geologist,  he  talked  of  his 
specimens,  and  his  hopes  of  finding  a  mine  in  the  neigh- 
bouring mountains;  then  adopting,  as  well  as  he  could, 
the  servile  tone  and  abject  manner  in  which  he  found  Mr. 
Dennis  was  to  be  addressed,  "he  hoped  he  might  get  en- 
couragement from  the  gentleman  at  the  head  of  the  estate." 

"To  bore,  is  it? — Well,  don't  bore  me  about  it.  I  can't 
give  you  any  answer  now,  my  good  friend;  I'm  engaged." 

Out  he  strutted.  "Stick  to  him  up  the  town,  if  you 
have  a  mind  to  get  your  answer,"  whispered  the  woman. 
Lord  Colambre  followed,  for  he  wished  to  see  the  end  of 
this  scene. 

"Well,  sir,  what  are  you  following  and  sticking  to  me, 
like  my  shadow,  for?  "  said  Mr,  Dennis,  turning  suddenly 
upon  Lord  Colambre. 

His  lordship  bowed  low.  "Waiting  for  my  answer,  sir, 
when  you  are  at  leisure.  Or,  may  I  call  upon  you  to- 
morrow? " 

"You  seem  to  be  a  civil  kind  of  fellow ;  but,  as  to  boring, 
I  don't  know — if  you  undertake  it  at  your  own  expense. 
I  dare  say  there  may  be  minerals  in  the  ground.  Well, 
you  may  call  at  the  castle  to-morrow,  and  when  my 
brother  has  done  with  the  tenantry,  I'll  speak  to  \)S.m.  for 
you,  and  we'll  consult  together,  and  see  what  we  think. 
It's  too  late  to-night.  In  Ireland,  nobody  speaks  to  a 
gentleman  about  business  after  dinner — your  servant,  sir; 
anybody  can  show  you  the  way  to  the  castle  in  the  morn- 
ing." And,  pushing  by  his  lordship,  he  called  to  a  man 
on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  who  had  obviously  been 
waiting  for  him;  he  went  under  a  gateway  with  this  man, 
and  gave  him  a  bag  of  guineas.  He  then  called  for  his 
horse,  which  was  brought  to  him  by  a  man  whom  Colam- 
bre had  heard  declaring  that  he  would  bid  for  the  land  that 
was  advertised ;  whilst  another,  who  had  the  same  inten- 
tions, most  respectfully  held  St.   Dennis's  stirrup,  whilst 

172 


THE  ABSENTEE 

he  mounted  without  thanking  either  of  these  men.  St. 
Dennis  clapped  spurs  to  his  steed,  and  rode  away.  No 
thanks,  indeed,  were  deserved ;  for  the  moment  he  was 
out  of  hearing,  both  cursed  him  after  the  manner  of  their 
country. 

"Bad  luck  go  with  you,  then  ! — And  may  you  break  your 
neck  before  you  get  home,  if  it  was  not  for  the  lase  I'm  to 
get,  and  that's  paid  for." 

Lord  Colambre  followed  the  crowd  into  a  public-house, 
where  a  new  scene  presented  itself  to  his  view. 

The  man  to  whom  St.  Dennis  gave  the  bag  of  gold  was 
now  selling  this  very  gold  to  the  tenants,  who  were  to  pay 
their  rent  next  day  at  the  castle. 

The  agent  would  take  nothing  but  gold.  The  same 
guineas  were  bought  and  sold  several  times  over,  to  the 
great  profit  of  the  agent  and  loss  of  the  poor  tenants ;  for, 
as  the  rents  were  paid,  the  guineas  were  resold  to  another 
set,  and  the  remittances  made  through  bankers  to  the  land- 
lord ;  who,  as  the  poor  man  who  explained  the  transaction 
to  Lord  Colambre  expressed  it,  "gained  nothing  by  the 
business,  bad  or  good,  but  the  ill-will  of  the  tenantry." 

The  higgling  for  the  price  of  the  gold ;  the  time  lost  in 
disputing  about  the  goodness  of  the  notes,  among  some 
poor  tenants,  who  could  not  read  or  write,  and  who  were 
at  the  mercy  of  the  man  with  the  bag  in  his  hand ;  the 
vexation,  the  useless  harassing  of  all  who  were  obliged  to 
submit  ultimately — Lord  Colambre  saw;  and  all  this  time 
he  endured  the  smell  of  tobacco  and  whisky,  and  of  the 
sound  of  various  brogues,  the  din  of  men  wrangling,  brawl- 
ing, threatening,  whining,  drawling,  cajoling,  cursing,  and 
every  variety  of  wretchedness. 

"And  is  this  my  father's  town  of  Clonbrony? "  thought 
Lord  Colambre.  "Is  this  Ireland? — No,  it  is  not  Ireland. 
Let  me  not,  like  most  of  those  who  forsake  their  native 
country,  traduce  it.  Let  me  not,  even  to  my  own  mind, 
commit  the  injustice  of  taking  a  speck  for  the  whole. 
What  I  have  just  seen  is  the  picture  only  of  that  to  which 
an  Irish  estate  and  Irish  tenantry  may  be  degraded  in  the 
absence  of  those  whose  duty  and  interest  it  is  to  reside  in 

173 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Ireland  to  uphold  justice  by  example  and  authority;  but 
who,  neglecting  this  duty,  commit  power  to  bad  hands  and 
bad  hearts — abandon  their  tenantry  to  oppression,  and 
their  property  to  ruin," 

It  was  now  fine  moonlight,  and  Lord  Colambre  met  with 
a  boy,  who  said  he  could  show  him  a  short  way  across  the 
fields  to  the  widow  O'Neill's  cottage. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

ALL  were  asleep  at  the  cottage,  when  Lord  Colambre 
arrived,  except  the  widow,  who  was  sitting  up,  wait- 
ing for  him ;  and  who  had  brought  her  dog  into  the 
house,  that  he  might  not  fly  at  him,  or  bark  at  his  return. 
She  had  a  roast  chicken  ready  for  her  guest,  and  it  was — 
but  this  she  never  told  him — the  only  chicken  she  had  left ; 
all  the  others  had  been  sent  with  the  duty-fowl,  as  a  pre- 
sent to  the  under-agent's  lady.  While  he  was  eating  his 
supper,  which  he  ate  with  the  better  appetite,  as  he  had 
had  no  dinner,  the  good  woman  took  down  from  the  shelf 
a  pocket-book,  which  she  gave  him:  "Is  not  that  your 
book?"  said  she.  "My  boy  Brian  found  it  after  you  in 
the  potato  furrow,  where  you  dropped  it." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Lord  Colambre;   "there  are  bank 
notes  in  it,  which  I  could  not  afford  to  lose." 

"Are  there?"  said  she;  "he  never  opened  it — nor  I." 
Then,  in  answer  to  his  inquiries  about  Grace  and  the 
young  man,  the  widow  answered,  "They  are  all  in  heart 
now,  I  thank  ye  kindly,  sir,  for  asking;  they'll  sleep  easy 
to-night  anyway,  and  I'm  in  great  spirits  for  them  and 
myself — for  all's  smooth  now.  After  we  parted  you,  Brian 
saw  Mr.  Dennis  himself  about  the  lase  and  memorandum, 
which  he  never  denied,  but  knew  nothing  about.  'But,  be 
that  as  it  may,'  says  he,  'you're  improving  tenants,  and 
I'm  confident  my  brother  will  consider  ye;  so  what  you'll 
do  is,  you'll  give  up  the  possession  to-morrow  to  myself, 
that  will  call  for  it  by  cockcrow,  just  for  form's  sake;  and 
then  go  up  to  the  castle  with  the  new  lase  ready  drawn,  in 

174 


THE  ABSENTEE 

your  hand,  and  if  all's  paid  off  clear  of  the  rent,  and  all 
that's  due,  you'll  get  the  new  lase  signed ;  I'll  promise  you 
that  upon  the  word  and  honour  of  a  gentleman.'  And 
there's  no  going  beyond  that,  you  know,  sir.  So  my  boy 
came  home  as  light  as  a  feather,  and  as  gay  as  a  lark,  to 
bring  us  the  good  news ;  only  he  was  afraid  we  might  not 
make  up  the  rent,  guineas  and  all;  and  because  he  could 
not  get  paid  for  the  work  he  done,  on  account  of  the  mis- 
take in  the  overseer's  tally,  I  sold  the  cow  to  a  neighbour 
— dog-cheap ;  but  needs  must,  as  they  say,  when  old  Nick 
drives,''  said  the  widow,  smiling.  "Well,  still  it  was  but 
paper  we  got  for  the  cow ;  then  that  must  be  gold  before 
the  agent  would  take  or  touch  it — so  I  was  laying  out  to 
sell  the  dresser,  and  had  taken  the  plates  and  cups,  and 
little  things  off  it,  and  my  boy  was  lifting  it  out  with  Andy 
the  carpenter,  that  was  agreeing  for  it,  when  in  comes 
Grace,  all  rosy,  and  out  of  breath — it's  a  wonder  I  minded 
her  run  out,  and  not  missed  her,  'Mother,'  says  she, 
'here's  the  gold  for  you!  don't  be  stirring  your  dresser.' 
— 'And  where's  your  gown  and  cloak,  Grace?  '  says  I.  But 
I  beg  your  pardon,  sir;  maybe  I'm  tiring  you?" 

Lord  Colambre  encouraged  her  to  go  on. 

"  'Where's  your  gown  and  cloak,  Grace?  '  says  I. — 
'Gone,'  says  she.  'The  cloak  was  too  warm  and  heavy, 
and  I  don't  doubt,  mother,  but  it  was  that  helped  to  make 
me  faint  this  morning.  And  as  to  the  gown,  sure  I've  a 
very  nice  one  here,  that  you  spun  for  me  yourself,  mother; 
and  that  I  prize  above  all  the  gowns  ever  came  out  of  a 
loom ;  and  that  Brian  said  become  me  to  his  fancy  above 
any  gown  ever  he  see  me  wear;  and  what  could  I  wish  for 
more? '  Now  I'd  a  mind  to  scold  her  for  going  to  sell  the 
gown  unknown'st  to  me,  but  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  I 
couldn't  scold  her  just  then,  so  kissed  her,  and  Brian  the 
same,  and  that  was  what  no  man  ever  did  before.  And 
she  had  a  mind  to  be  angry  with  him,  but  could  not,  nor 
ought  not,  says  I ;  'for  he's  as  good  as  your  husband  now, 
Grace;  and  no  man  can  part  yees  now,'  says  I,  putting 
their  hands  together.  Well,  I  never  saw  her  look  so 
pretty ;  nor  there  was  not  a  happier  boy  that  minute  on 

175 


THE  ABSENTEE 

God's  earth  than  my  son,  nor  a  happier  mother  than  my- 
self; and  I  thanked  God  that  had  given  them  to  me;  and 
down  they  both  fell  on  their  knees  for  my  blessing,  little 
worth  as  it  was;  and  my  heart's  blessing  they  had,  and  I 
laid  my  hands  upon  them.  'It's  the  priest  you  must  get 
to  do  this  for  you  to-morrow,'  says  I.  And  Brian  just 
held  up  the  ring,  to  show  me  all  was  ready  on  his  part,  but 
could  not  speak.  'Then  there's  no  America  any  more!  ' 
said  Grace,  low  to  me,  and  her  heart  was  on  her  lips;  but 
the  colour  came  and  went,  and  I  was  afeard  she'd  have 
swooned  again,  but  not  for  sorrow,  so  I  carried  her  off. 
Well,  if  she  was  not  my  own — but  she  is  not  my  own  born, 
so  I  may  say  it — there  never  was  a  better  girl,  nor  a  more 
kind-hearted,  nor  generous;  never  thinking  anything  she 
could  do,  or  give,  too  much  for  them  she  loved,  and  any- 
thing at  all  would  do  for  herself;  the  sweetest  natured  and 
tempered  both,  and  always  was,  from  this  high;  the  bond 
that  held  all  together,  and  joy  of  the  house." 

"Just  like  her  namesake,"  cried  Lord  Colambre. 

"Plase  your  honour? " 

"Is  not  it  late?"  said  Lord  Colambre,  stretching  himself 
and  gaping;  "I've  walked  a  great  way  to-day." 

The  old  woman  lighted  his  rushlight,  showed  him  to  his 
red  check  bed,  and  wished  him  a  very  good  night ;  not 
without  some  slight  sentiment  of  displeasure  at  his  gaping 
thus  at  the  panegyric  on  her  darling  Grace.  Before  she 
left  the  room,  however,  her  short-lived  resentment  van- 
ished, upon  his  saying  that  he  hoped,  with  her  permission, 
to  be  present  at  the  wedding  of  the  young  couple. 

Early  in  the  morning  Brian  went  to  the  priest,  to  ask  his 
reverence  when  it  would  be  convenient  to  marry  him ;  and, 
whilst  he  was  gone,  Mr.  Dennis  Garraghty  came  to  the 
cottage,  to  receive  the  rent  and  possession.  The  rent  was 
ready,  in  gold,  and  counted  into  his  hand. 

"No  occasion  for  a  receipt ;  for  a  new  lase  is  a  receipt  in 
full  for  everything." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  widow;  "I  know  nothing  of 
law.  You  know  best — whatever  you  direct — for  you  are 
acting  as  a  friend  to  us  now.     My  son  got  the  attorney  to 

176 


THE  ABSENTEE 

draw  the  pair  of  new  lascs  yesterday,  and  here  they  are 
ready,  all  to  signing." 

Mr.  Dennis  said  his  brother  must  settle  that  part  of  the 
business,  and  that  they  must  carry  them  up  to  the  castle; 
"but  first  give  me  the  possession." 

Then,  as  he  instructed  her,  she  gave  up  the  key  of  the 
door  to  him,  and  a  bit  of  the  thatch  of  the  house ;  and  he 
raked  out  the  fire,  and  said  every  living  creature  must  go 
out.     "It's  only  form  of  law,"  said  he. 

"And  must  my  lodger  get  up  and  turn  out,  sir?"  said 
she. 

"He  must  turn  out,  to  be  sure — not  a  living  soul  must 
be  left  in  it,  or  it's  no  legal  possession  properly.  Who  is 
your  lodger?  " 

On  Lord  Colambre's  appearing,  Mr.  Dennis  showed 
some  surprise,  and  said,  "I  thought  you  were  lodging  at 
Brannagan's;  are  not  you  the  man  who  spoke  to  me  at  his 
house  about  the  gold  mines?  " 

"No,  sir,  he  never  lodged  at  Brannagan's,"  said  the 
widow. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  am  the  person  who  spoke  to  you  about 
the  gold  mines  at  Brannagan's;  but  I  did  not  like  to 
lodge " 

"Well,  no  matter  where  you  liked  to  lodge;  you  must 
walk  out  of  this  lodging  now,  if  you  please,  my  good 
friend." 

So  Mr.  Dennis  pushed  his  lordship  out  by  the  shoulders, 
repeating,  as  the  widow  turned  back  and  looked  with  some 
surprise  and  alarm,  "only  for  form's  sake,  only  for  form's 
sake!"  then  locking  the  door,  took  the  key,  and  put  it 
into  his  pocket.  The  widow  held  out  her  hand  for  it: 
"The  form's  gone  through  now,  sir,  is  not  it?  Be  plased 
to  let  us  in  again." 

"When  the  new  lease  is  signed,  I'll  give  you  possession 
again;  but  not  till  then — for  that's  the  law.  So  make 
away  with  you  to  the  castle;  and  mind,"  added  he,  wink- 
ing slily, — "mind  you  take  sealing-money  with  you,  and 
something  to  buy  gloves." 

"Oh,  where  will  I  find  all  that? "  said  the  widow. 
«  177 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"I  have  it,  mother;  don't  fret,"  said  Grace.  "I  have 
it — the  price  of — what  I  can  want.'  So  let  us  go  off  to  the 
castle  without  delay.  Brian  will  meet  us  on  the  road,  you 
know." 

They  set  off  for  Clonbrony  Castle,  Lord  Colambre  ac- 
companying them.  Brian  met  them  on  the  road.  ' '  Father 
Tom  is  ready,  dear  mother;  bring  her  in,  and  he'll  marry 
us.  I'm  not  my  own  man  till  she's  mine.  Who  knows 
what  may  happen?" 

"Who  knows?  that's  true,"  said  the  widow. 

"Better  go  to  the  castle  first,"  said  Grace. 

"And  keep  the  priest  waiting!  You  can't  use  his  rever- 
ence so,"  said  Brian. 

So  she  let  him  lead  her  into  the  priest's  house,  and  she 
did  not  make  any  of  the  awkward  draggings  back,  or 
ridiculous  scenes  of  grimace  sometimes  exhibited  on  these 
occasions;  but  blushing  rosy  red,  yet  with  more  self-pos- 
session than  could  have  been  expected  from  her  timid 
nature,  she  gave  her  hand  to  the  man  she  loved,  and  listened 
with  attentive  devotion  to  the  holy  ceremony. 

"Ah  !  "  thought  Lord  Colambre,  whilst  he  congratulated 
the  bride,  "shall  I  ever  be  as  happy  as  these  poor  people 
are  at  this  moment?"  He  longed  to  make  them  some 
little  present,  but  all  he  could  venture  at  this  moment  was 
to  pay  the  priest's  dues. 

The  priest  positively  refused  to  take  anything.  "They 
are  the  best  couple  in  my  parish,"  said  he;  "and  I'll  take 
nothing,  sir,  from  you,  a  stranger  and  my  guest." 

"Now,  come  what  will,  I'm  a  match  for  it.  No  trouble 
can  touch  me,"  said  Brian. 

"Oh,  don't  be  bragging,"  said  the  widow. 

"Whatever  trouble  God  sends,  He  has  given  one  now 
will  help  to  bear  it,  and  sure  I  may  be  thankful,"  said 
Grace. 

"Such  good  hearts  must  be  happy — shall  be  happy!" 
said  Lord  Colambre. 

"Oh,  you're  very  kind,"  said  the  widow,  smiling;  "and 
I  wouldn't  doubt  you,   if  you  had   the  power.     I  hope, 

'  What  I  can  do  without. 
178 


THE  ABSENTEE 

then,  the  agent  will  give  you  encouragement  about  them 
mines,  that  we  may  keep  you  among  us." 

"I  am  determined  to  settle  among  you,  warm-hearted, 
generous  people!"  cried  Lord  Colambre,  "whether  the 
agent  gives  me  encouragement  or  not,"  added  he. 

It  was  a  long  walk  to  Clonbrony  Castle;  the  old  woman, 
as  she  said  herself,  would  not  have  been  able  for  it,  but  for 
a  lift  given  to  her  by  a  friendly  carman,  whom  they  met 
on  the  road  with  an  empty  car.  This  carman  was  Fin- 
nucan,  who  dissipated  Lord  Colambre's  fears  of  meeting 
and  being  recognised  by  Mrs.  Raffarty ;  for  he,  in  answer 
to  the  question  of,  "Who  is  at  the  castle?"  replied,  "Mrs. 
Raffarty  will  be  in  it  afore  night;  but  she's  on  the  road 
still.  There's  none  but  old  Nick  in  it  yet;  and  he's  more 
of  a  neger  than  ever;  for  think,  that  he  would  not  pay  me 
a  farthing  for  the  carriage  of  his  shisters  boxes  and  band- 
boxes down.  If  you're  going  to  have  any  dealings  with 
him,  God  grant  ye  a  safe  deliverance!  " 

"Amen!  "  said  the  widow,  and  her  son  and  daughter. 

Lord  Colambre's  attention  was  now  engaged  by  the  view 
of  the  castle  and  park  of  Clonbrony.  He  had  not  seen  it 
since  he  was  six  years  old.  Some  faint  reminiscence  from 
his  childhood  made  him  feel  or  fancy  that  he  knew  the 
place.  It  was  a  fine  castle,  spacious  park;  but  all  about 
it,  from  the  broken  piers  at  the  great  entrance,  to  the 
mossy  gravel  and  loose  steps  at  the  hall-door,  had  an  air 
of  desertion  and  melancholy.  Walks  overgrown,  shrub- 
beries wild,  plantations  run  up  into  bare  poles;  fine  trees 
cut  down,  and  lying  on  the  gravel  in  lots  to  be  sold.  A 
hill  that  had  been  covered  with  an  oak  wood,  in  which,  in 
his  childhood,  our  hero  used  to  play,  and  which  he  called 
the  black  forest,  was  gone;  nothing  to  be  seen  but  the 
white  stumps  of  the  trees,  for  it  had  been  freshly  cut  down, 
to  make  up  the  last  remittances. — "And  how  it  went,  when 
sold! — but  no  matter,"  said  Finnucan  ;  "it's  all  alike.— It's 
the  back  way  into  the  yard,  I'll  take  you,  I  suppose." 

And  such  a  yard  !  ' '  But  it's  no  matter, ' '  repeated  Lord 
Colambre  to  himself;  "it's  all  alike." 

In   the  kitchen  a  great  dinner   was   dressing    for   Mr. 

179 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Garraghty's  friends,  who  were  to  make  merry  with  him 
when  the  business  of  the  day  was  over, 

"Where's  the  keys  of  the  cellar,  till  I  get  out  the  claret 
for  after  dinner,"  says  one;  "and  the  wine  for  the  cook  — 
sure  there's  venison,"  cries  another. — "Venison! — That's 
the  way  my  lord's  deer  goes,"  says  a  third,  laughing. — • 
"Ay,  sure!  and  very  proper,  when  he's  not  here  to  eat 
'em." — "Keep  your  nose  out  of  the  kitchen,  young  man, 
.if  yon plasc,''  said  the  agent's  cook,  shutting  the  door  in 
Lord  Colambre's  face.  "There's  the  way  to  the  office,  if 
you've  money  to  pay,  up  the  back  stairs." 

"No;  up  the  grand  staircase  they  must — Mr.  Garraghty 
ordered,"  said  the  footman;  "because  the  office  is  damp 
for  him,  and  it's  not  there  he'll  see  anybody  to-day  ;  but  in 
my  lady's  dressing-room." 

So  up  the  grand  staircase  they  went,  and  through  the 
magnificent  apartments,  hung  with  pictures  of  great  value, 
spoiling  with  damp.  "Then,  isn't  it  a  pity  to  see  them? 
There's  my  lady,  and  all  spoiling,"  said  the  widow. 

Lord  Colambre  stopped  before  a  portrait  of  Miss  Nu- 
gent.— "Shamefully  damaged!"  cried  he.  "Pass  on,  or 
let  me  pass,  if  you  plase,'"  said  one  of  the  tenants;  "and 
don't  be  stopping  the  doorway."  "I  have  business  more 
nor  you  with  the  agent,"  said  the  surveyor;  "where  is 
he?" 

"In  the  presence-cJiamber,'"  replied  another;  "where 
should  the  viceroy  be  but  in  \.h.Q  presence-chamber  ?  " 

There  was  a  full  levee,  and  fine  smell  of  greatcoats. — 
"Oh  !  would  you  put  your  hats  on  the  silk  cushions?  "  said 
the  widow  to  some  men  in  the  doorway,  who  were  throw- 
ing off  their  greasy  hats  on  a  damask  sofa. — "Why  not? 
where  else?"  "If  the  lady  was  in  it,  you  wouldn't,"  said 
she,  sighing. — "No,  to  be  sure,  I  wouldn't;  great  news! 
would  I  make  no  differ  in  the  presence  of  old  Nick  and  my 
lady?"  said  he,  in  Irish.  "Have  I  no  sense  or  manners, 
good  woman,  think  ye?"  added  he,  as  he  shook  the  ink 
out  of  his  pen  on  the  Wilton  carpet,  when  he  had  finished 
signing  his  name  to  a  paper  on  his  knee.  "You  may  wait 
long  before  you  get  to  the  speech  of  the  great  man,"  said 

1 80 


THE  ABSENTEE 

another,  who  was  working  his  way  through  numbers. 
They  continued  pushing  forward,  till  they  came  within 
sight  of  Mr.  Nicholas  Garraghty,  seated  in  state;  and  a 
worse  countenance,  or  a  more  perfect  picture  of  an  in- 
solent, petty  tyrant  in  office.  Lord  Colambre  had  never 
beheld. 

We  forbear  all  further  detail  of  this  levee.  "It's  all  the 
same!"  as  Lord  Colambre  repeated  to  himself,  on  every 
fresh  instance  of  roguery  or  oppression  to  which  he  was 
witness ;  and,  having  completely  made  up  his  mind  on  the 
subject,  he  sat  down  quietly  in  the  background,  waiting 
till  it  should  come  to  the  widow's' turn  to  be  dealt  with,  for 
he  was  now  interested  only  to  see  how  she  would  be 
treated.  The  room  gradually  thinned;  Mr.  Dennis  Gar- 
raghty came  in,  and  sat  down  at  the  table,  to  help  his 
brother  to  count  the  heaps  of  gold. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Dennis,  Lm  glad  to  see  you  as  kind  as  your 
promise,  meeting  me  here,"  said  the  widow  O'Neill,  walk- 
ing up  to  him;  "I'm  sure  you'll  speak  a  good  word  for 
me;  here's  the  lases — who  will  I  offer  this  to?"  said  she, 
holding  \h^  glove-money  and  sealmg-money , — "for  I'm 
strange  and  ashamed." 

"Oh,  don't  be  ashamed — there's  no  strangeness  in  bring- 
ing money  or  taking  it,"  said  Mr.  Nicholas  Garraghty, 
holding  out  his  hand.     "Is  this  the  proper  compliment? " 

"I  hope  so,  sir;  your  honour  knows  best." 

"Very  well,"  slipping  it  into  his  private  purse.  "Now, 
what's  your  business?  " 

"The  lases  to  sign — the  rent's  all  paid  up." 

"Leases!     Why,  woman,  is  the  possession  given  up?" 

"It  was,  plase  your  honour;  and  Mr.  Dennis  has  the 
key  of  our  little  place  in  his  pocket." 

"Then  I  hope  he'll  keep  it  there.  Your  little  place — it's 
no  longer  yours;  I've  promised  it  to  the  surveyor.  You 
don't  think  I'm  such  a  fool  as  to  renew  to  you  at  this 
rent." 

"  Mr.Dennis  named  the  rent.  But  anything  your  honour 
pluses — anything  at  all  that  we  can  pay." 

"Oh,  it's  out  of  the  question — put  it  out  of  your  head. 

i8i 


THE  ABSENTEE 

No  rent  you  can  offer  would  do,  for  I've  promised  it  to  the 
surveyor," 

"Sir,  Mr.  Dennis  knows  my  lord  gave  us  his  promise  in 
writing  of  a  renewal,  on  the  back  of  the  oidd  lase.'' 

"Produce  it." 

"Here's  the  lase,  but  the  promise  is  rubbed  out." 

"Nonsense!  coming  to  me  with  a  promise  that's  rubbed 
out.  Who'll  listen  to  that  in  a  court  of  justice,  do  you 
think?" 

"I  don't  know,  plase  your  honour ;  but  this  I'm  sure  of, 
my  lord  and  Miss  Nugent,  though  but  a  child  at  the  time, 
God  bless  her !  who  was  by  when  my  lord  wrote  it  with  his 
pencil,  will  remember  it." 

"Miss  Nugent!  what  can  she  know  of  business? — What 
has  she  to  do  with  the  management  of  my  Lord  Clon- 
brony's  estate,  pray?  " 

"Management! — no,  sir!  " 

"Do  you  wish  to  get  Miss  Nugent  turned  out  of  the 
house? " 

"Oh,  God  forbid! — how  could  that  be?  " 

"Very  easily;  if  you  set  about  to  make  her  meddle  and 
witness  in  what  my  lord  does  not  choose." 

"Well  then,  I'll  never  mention  Miss  Nugent's  name  in 
it  at  all,  if  it  was  ever  so  with  me.  But  he.  plased,  sir,  to 
write  over  to  my  lord,  and  ask  him ;  I'm  sure  he'll  remem- 
ber it." 

"Write  to  my  lord  about  such  a  trifle — trouble  him 
about  such  nonsense!  " 

"I'd  be  sorry  to  trouble  him.  Then  take  it  on  my 
word,  and  believe  me,  sir;  for  I  would  not  tell  a  lie,  nor 
cheat  rich  or  poor,  if  in  my  power,  for  the  whole  estate, 
nor  the  whole  world:  for  there's  an  eye  above." 

"Cant!  nonsense! — Take  those  leases  off  the  table;  I 
never  will  sign  them.  Walk  off,  ye  canting  hag;  it's  an 
imposition^ — ^I  will  never  sign  them." 

"You  will  then,  sir,"  cried  Brian,  growing  red  with  in- 
dignation; "fortl^e  law  shall  make  you,  so  it  shall;  and 
you'd  as  good  have  been  civil  to  my  mother,  whatever  you 
did — for  I'll  stand  by  her  while  I've  life;  and  I  know  she 

182 


THE  ABSENTEE 

has  right,  and  shall  have  law.  I  saw  the  memorandum 
written  before  ever  it  went  into  your  hands,  sir,  whatever 
became  of  it  after;  and  will  swear  to  it,  too." 

"Swear  away,  my  good  friend;  much  your  swearing  will 
avail  in  your  own  case  in  a  court  of  justice,"  continued 
old  Nick. 

"And  against  a  gentleman  of  my  brother's  established 
character  and  property,"  said  St.  Dennis.  "What's  your 
mother's  character  against  a  gentleman's  like  this? " 

"Character!  take  care  how  you  go  to  that,  anyway,  sir," 
cried  Brian. 

Grace  put  her  hand  before  his  mouth,  to  stop  him. 

"Grace,  dear,  I  must  speak,  if  I  die  for  it;  sure  it's  for 
my  mother,"  said  the  young  man,  struggling  forward, 
while  his  mother  held  him  back;  "I  must  speak." 

"Oh,  he's  ruin'd,  I  see  it,"  said  Grace,  putting  her  hand 
before  her  eyes,  "and  he  won't  mind  me." 

"Go  on,  let  him  go  on,  pray,  young  woman,"  said  Mr. 
Garraghty,  pale  with  anger  and  fear,  his  lips  quivering;  "I 
shall  be  happy  to  take  down  his  words." 

"Write  them;  and  may  all  the  world  read  it,  and  wel- 
come! " 

His  mother  and  wife  stopped  his  mouth  by  force. 

"Write  you,  Dennis,"  said  Mr.  Garraghty,  giving  the 
pen  to  his  brother;  for  his  hand  shook  so  he  could  not 
form  a  letter.  "Write  the  very  words,  and  at  the  top" 
(pointing)  "after  warning,  with  malice  prepense." 

"Write,  then — mother,  Grace — let  me,"  cried  Brian, 
speaking  in  a  smothered  voice,  as  their  hands  were  over 
his  mouth.  "Write  then,  that,  if  you'd  either  of  you  a 
character  like  my  mother,  you  might  defy  the  world ;  and 
your  word  would  be  as  good  as  your  oath." 

''Oath!  mind  that,  Dennis,"  said  Mr.  Garraghty. 

"Oh,  sir!  sir!  won't  you  stop  him?"  cried  Grace, 
turning  suddenly  to  Lord  Colambre. 

"Oh  dear,  dear,  if  you  haven't  lost  your  feeling  for  us," 
cried  the  widow. 

"Let  him  speak,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  in  a  tone  of 
authority;  "let  the  voice  of  truth  be  heard." 

183 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"  Truth  !  "  cried  St.  Dennis,  and  dropped  the  pen. 

"And  who  the  devil  are  you,  sir?"  said  old  Nick. 

"Lord  Colambre,  I  protest!  "  exclaimed  a  female  voice; 
and  Mrs.  Raffarty  at  this  instant  appeared  at  the  open  door. 

"Lord  Colambre!"  repeated  all  present,  in  different 
tones. 

"My  lord,  I  beg  pardon,"  continued  Mrs.  Raffarty,  ad- 
vancing as  if  her  legs  were  tied;  "had  I  known  you  was 
down  here,  I  would  not  have  presumed.  I'd  better  retire ; 
for  I  see  you're  busy." 

"You'd  best;  for  you're  mad,  sister,"  said  St.  Dennis, 
pushing  her  back;  "and  we  are  busy;  go  to  your  room, 
and  keep  quiet,  if  you  can." 

"First,  madam,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  going  between 
her  and  the  door,  "let  me  beg  that  you  will  consider  your- 
self as  at  home  in  this  house,  whilst  any  circumstances 
make  it  desirable  to  you.  The  hospitality  you  showed  me 
you  cannot  think  that  I  now  forget." 

"Oh,  my  lord,  you're  too  good — how  few — too  kind — 
kinder  than  my  own,"  and  bursting  into  tears,  she  escaped 
out  of  the  room. 

Lord  Colambre  returned  to  the  party  round  the  table, 
who  were  in  various  attitudes  of  astonishment,  and  with 
faces  of  fear,  horror,  hope,  joy,  doubt. 

"Distress,"  continued  his  lordship,  "however  incurred, 
if  not  by  vice,  will  always  find  a  refuge  in  this  house.  I 
speak  in  my  father's  name,  for  I  know  I  speak  his  senti- 
ments. But  never  more  shall  vice,"  said  he,  darting  such 
a  look  at  the  brother  agents  as  they  felt  to  the  backbone — 
"never  more  shall  vice,  shall  fraud  enter  here." 

He  paused,  and  there  was  a  momentary  silence. 

"There  spoke  the  true  thing!  and  the  rael  gentleman; 
my  own  heart's  satisfied,"  said  Brian,  folding  his  arms, 
and  standing  erect. 

"Then  so  is  mine,"  said  Grace,  taking  breath,  with  a 
deep  sigh. 

The  widow  advancing,  put  on  her  spectacles,  and,  look- 
ing up  close  at  Lord  Colambre's  face — "Then  it's  a  wonder 
I  didn't  know  the  family  likeness." 

184 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Lord  Colambre  now  recollecting  that  he  still  wore  the 
old  greatcoat,  threw  it  off. 

"Oh,  bless  him!  Then  now  I'd  know  him  anywhere. 
I'm  willing  to  die  now,  for  we'll  all  be  happy." 

"My  lord,  since  it  is  so — my  lord,  may  I  ask  you,"  said 
Mr.  Garraghty,  now  sufficiently  recovered  to  be  able  to 
articulate,  but  scarcely  to  express  his  ideas;  "if  what  your 
lordship  hinted  just  now " 

"I  hinted  nothing,  sir;  I  spoke  plainly." 

"I  beg  pardon,  my  lord,"  said  old  Nick; — "respecting 
vice,  was  levelled  at  me;  because,  if  it  was,  my  lord,"  try- 
ing to  stand  erect;  "let  me  tell  your  lordship,  if  I  could 
think  it  was " 

"If  it  did  not  hit  you,  sir,  no  matter  at  whom  it  was 
levelled." 

"And  let  me  ask,  my  lord,  if  I  may  presume,  whether,  in 
what  you  suggested  by  the  word  fraud,  your  lordship  had 
any  particular  meaning?  "  said  St.  Dennis. 

"A  very  particular  meaning,  sir, — feel  in  your  pocket 
for  the  key  of  this  widow's  house,  and  deliver  it  to 
her." 

"Oh,  if  that's  all  the  meaning,  with  all  the  pleasure  in 
life.  I  never  meant  to  detain  it  longer  than  till  the  leases 
were  signed,"  said  St.  Dennis. 

"And  I'm  ready  to  sign  the  leases  this  minute,"  said  the 
brother. 

"Do  it,  sir,  this  minute;  I  have  read  them;  I  will  be 
answerable  to  my  father." 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  my  lord,  I  have  power  to  sign  for  your 
father."  He  signed  the  leases;  they  were  duly  witnessed 
by  Lord  Colambre. 

' '  I  deliver  this  as  my  act  and  deed, ' '  said  Mr.  Garraghty  ; 
— "my  lord,"  continued  he,  "you  see,  at  the  first  word 
from  you ;  and  had  I  known  sooner  the  interest  you  took 
in  the  family,  there  would  have  been  no  difficulty ;  for  I'd 
make  it  a  principle  to  oblige  you,  my  lord." 

"Oblige  me!  "  said  Lord  Colambre,  with  disdain. 

"But  when  gentlemen  and  noblemen  travel  incognito, 
and  lodge  in  cabins,"  added  St.   Dennis,  with  a  satanic 

185 


THE  ABSENTEE 

smile,  glancing  his  eye  on  Grace,  "they  have  good  reasons, 
no  doubt." 

"Do  not  judge  my  heart  by  your  own,  sir,"  said  Lord 
Colambre,  coolly;  "no  two  things  in  nature  can,  I  trust, 
be  more  different.  My  purpose  in  travelling  incognito  has 
been  fully  answered:  I  was  determined  to  see  and  judge 
how  my  father's  estates  were  managed;  and  I  have  seen, 
compared,  and  judged.  I  have  seen  the  difference  between 
the  Clonbrony  and  the  Colambre  property;  and  I  shall 
represent  what  I  have  seen  to  my  father." 

"As  to  that,  my  lord,  if  we  are  to  come  to  that — but  I 
trust  your  lordship  will  suffer  me  to  explain  these  matters. 
— Go  about  your  business,  my  good  friends ;  you  have  all 
you  want ; — and,  my  lord,  after  dinner,  when  you  are  cool, 
I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  make  you  sensible  that  things 
have  been  represented  to  your  lordship  in  a  mistaken  light ; 
and  I  flatter  myself  I  shall  convince  you  I  have  not  only 
always  acted  the  part  of  a  friend  to  the  family,  but  am 
particularly  willing  to  conciliate  your  lordship's  goodwill," 
said  he,  sweeping  the  rouleaus  of  gold  into  a  bag;  "any 
accommodation  in  my  power,  at  any  time." 

"I  want  no  accommodation,  sir, —  were  I  starving,  I 
would  accept  of  none  from  you.  Never  can  you  conciliate 
my  goodwill;  for  you  can  never  deserve  it." 

"If  that  be  the  case,  my  lord,  I  must  conduct  myself  ac- 
cordingly; but  it's  fair  to  warn  you,  before  you  make  any 
representation  to  my  Lord  Clonbrony,  that  if  he  should 
think  of  changing  his  agent,  there  are  accounts  to  be 
settled  between  us — that  may  be  a  consideration." 

"No,  sir;  no  consideration — -my  father  never  shall  be 
the  slave  of  such  a  paltry  consideration." 

"Oh,  very  well,  my  lord;  you  know  best.  If  you  choose 
to  make  an  assumpsit,  I'm  sure  I  shall  not  object  to  the 
security.  Your  lordship  will  be  of  age  soon,  I  know — I'm 
sure  I'm  satisfied — but,"  added  he  with  a  malicious  smile, 
"I  rather  apprehend  you  don't  know  what  you  undertake; 
I  only  promise  that  the  balance  of  accounts  between  us  is 
not  what  can  properly  be  called  a  paltry  consideration." 

"On  that  point,  perhaps,  sir,  you  and  I  may  differ." 

1 86 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Very  well,  my  lord,  you  will  follow  your  own  prin- 
ciples, if  it  suits  your  convenience." 

"Whether  it  does  or  not,  sir,  I  shall  abide  by  my  prin- 
ciples." 

"Dennis!  the  letters  to  the  post. — When  do  you  go  to 
England,  my  lord  ?" 

"Immediately,  sir,"  said  Lord  Colambre;  his  lordship 
saw  new  leases  from  his  father  to  Mr.  Dennis  Garraghty, 
lying  on  the  table,  unsigned. 

"Immediately!  "  repeated  Messrs.  Nicholas  and  Dennis, 
with  an  air  of  dismay.  Nicholas  got  up,  looked  out  of  the 
window,  and  whispered  something  to  his  brother,  who  in- 
stantly left  the  room. 

Lord  Colambre  saw  the  post-chaise  at  the  door,  which 
had  brought  Mrs.  Raffarty  to  the  castle,  and  Larry  standing 
beside  it ;  his  lordship  instantly  threw  up  the  sash,  and 
holding  between  his  finger  and  thumb  a  six-shilling  piece, 
cried,  "Larry,  my  friend,  let  me  have  the  horses!  " 

"You  shall  have  'em — your  honour,"  said  Larry.  Mr. 
Dennis  Garraghty  appeared  below,  speaking  in  a  magis- 
terial tone.     "Larry,  my  brother  must  have  the  horses." 

"He  cdi.n  i,  p las e  your  honour — they're  engaged." 

"Half  a  crown! — a  crown! — half  a  guinea!"  said  Mr. 
Dennis  Garraghty,  raising  his  voice,  as  he  increased  his 
proffered  bribe.  To  each  offer  Larry  replied,  "You  can't 
plase  yoMX  honour,  they're  engaged  "  ; — and,  looking  up  to 
the  window  at  Lord  Colambre,  he  said,  "As  soon  as  they 
have  eaten  their  oats,  you  shall  have  'em." 

No  other  horses  were  to  be  had.  The  agent  was  in  con- 
sternation. Lord  Colambre  ordered  that  Larry  should 
have  some  dinner,  and  whilst  the  postillion  was  eating,  and 
the  horses  finishing  their  oats,  his  lordship  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing letter  to  his  father,  which,  to  prevent  all  possibility 
of  accident,  he  determined  to  put,  with  his  own  hand,  into 
the  post-office  at  Clonbrony,  as  he  passed  through  the  town. 

My  dear  Father, 

I  hope  to  be  with  you  in  a  few  days.  Lest  anything  should 
detain  me  on  the  road,  I  write  this,  to  make  an  earnest  request 

187 


THE  ABSENTEE 

to  you,  that  you  will  not  sign  any  papers,  or  transact  any  farther 
business  with  Messrs.  Nicholas  or  Dennis  Garraghty,  before  you 
see  your  affectionate  son,  Colambre. 

The  horses  came  out.  Larry  sent  word  he  was  ready, 
and  Lord  Colambre,  having  first  eaten  a  slice  of  his  own 
venison,  ran  down  to  the  carriage,  followed  by  the  thanks 
and  blessings  of  the  widow,  her  son,  and  daughter,  who 
could  hardly  make  their  way  after  him  to  the  chaise-door, 
so  great  was  the  crowd  which  had  gathered  on  the  report 
of  his  lordship's  arrival. 

"Long  life  to  your  honour!  Long  life  to  your  lord- 
ship!" echoed  on  all  sides.  "Just  come,  and  going,  are 
you?" 

"Good-bye  to  you  all,  good  people!  " 

"Then  good-bye  is  the  only  word  we  wouldn't  wish  to 
hear  from  your  honour." 

"For  the  sake  both  of  landlord  and  tenant,  I  must  leave 
you  now,  my  good  friends;  but  I  hope  to  return  to  you  at 
some  future  time." 

"God  bless  you!  and  speed  ye!  and  a  safe  journey  to 
your  honour ! — and  a  happy  return  to  us,  and  soon  !  "  cried 
a  multitude  of  voices. 

Lord  Colambre  stopped  at  the  chaise-door,  and  beckoned 
to  the  widow  O'Neill,  before  whom  others  had  pressed. 
An  opening  was  made  for  her  instantly. 

"There!  that  was  the  very  way  his  father  stood,  with 
his  feet  on  the  steps.     And  Miss  Nugent  was  in  it.'' 

Lord  Colambre  forgot  what  he  was  going  to  say — with 
some  difficulty  recollected. 

"This  pocket-book,"  said  he,  "which  your  son  restored 
to  me — I  intend  it  for  your  daughter — don't  keep  it,  as 
your  son  kept  it  for  me,  without  opening  it.  Let  what  is 
within-side,"  added  he,  as  he  got  into  the  carriage,  "replace 
the  cloak  and  gown,  and  let  all  things  necessary  for  a  bride 
be  bought ;  'for  the  bride  that  has  all  things  to  borrow  has 
surely  mickle  to  do.* — Shut  the  door,  and  drive  on." 

"Blessings  be  wid yo\x,''  cried  the  widow,  "and  God  give 
you  grace!  " 

i88 


THE  ABSENTEE 
CHAPTER    Xni. 

LARRY  drove  off  at  full  gallop,  and  kept  on  at  a  good 
rate,  till  he  got  out  of  the  great  gate,  and  beyond 
the  sight  of  the  crowd ;  then,  pulling  up,  he  turned 
to  Lord  Colambre — ''  Plase  your  honour,  I  did  not  know 
nor  guess  ye  was  my  lord,  when  I  let  you  have  the  horses; 
did  not  know  who  you  was  from  Adam,  I'll  take  my 
affidavit." 

"There's  no  occasion,"  said  Lord  Colambre;  "I  hope 
you  don't  repent  letting  me  have  the  horses,  now  you  do 
know  who  I  am?  " 

"Oh!  not  at  all,  sure;  I'm  as  glad  as  the  best  horse  I 
ever  crossed,  that  your  honour  is  my  lord — but  I  was  only 
telling  your  honour,  that  you  might  not  be  looking  upon 
me  as  a  time-sarverS' 

"I  do  not  look  upon  you  as  a  timc-sarver,  Larry;  but 
keep  on,  that  time  may  serve  me." 

In  two  words,  he  explained  his  cause  of  haste;  and  no 
sooner  explained  than  understood.  Larry  thundered  away 
through  the  town  of  Clonbrony,  bending  over  his  horses, 
plying  the  whip,  and  lending  his  very  soul  at  every  lash. 
With  much  difficulty.  Lord  Colambre  stopped  him  at  the 
end  of  the  town,  at  the  post-office.  The  post  was  gone 
out — gone  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

"Maybe  we'll  overtake  the  mail,"  said  Larry;  and,  as 
he  spoke,  he  slid  down  from  his  seat,  and  darted  into  the 
public-house,  reappearing,  in  a  few  moments,  with  a  copper 
of  ale  and  a  horn  in  his  hand ;  he  and  another  man  held 
open  the  horses'  mouths,  and  poured  the  ale  through  the 
.  horn  down  their  throats. 

"Now,  they'll  go  with  spirit!  " 

And,  with  the  hope  of  overtaking  the  mail,  Larry  made 
them  go  "for  life  or  death,"  as  he  said;  but  in  vain!  At 
the  next  stage,  at  his  own  inn-door,  Larry  roared  for  fresh 
horses  till  he  got  them,  harnessed  them  with  his  own  hands, 
holding  the  six-shilling  piece,  which  Lord  Colambre  had 
given  him,  in  his  mouth,  all  the  while ;  for  he  could  not 
take  time  to  put  it  into  his  pocket. 

189 


THE  ABSENTEE 

' '  Speed  ye !  I  wish  I  was  driving  you  all  the  way,  then, ' ' 
said  he.  The  other  postillion  was  not  yet  ready.  "Then 
your  honour  sees,"  said  he,  putting  his  head  into  the  car- 
riage, "consarning  of  them  Garraghties — old  Nick  and  St. 
Dennis — the  best  part,  that  is  the  worst  part,  of  what  I 
told  you,  proved  true;  and  I'm  glad  of  it,  that  is,  I'm 
sorry  for  it— but  glad  your  honour  knows  it  in  time.  So 
Heaven  prosper  you  !  And  may  all  the  saints  {barring  St. 
Dennis)  have  charge  of  you,  and  all  belonging  to  you,  till 
we  see  you  here  again ! — And  when  will  it  be?  " 

"I  cannot  say  when  I  shall  return  to  you  myself,  but  I 
will  do  my  best  to  send  your  landlord  to  you  soon.  In 
the  meantime,  my  good  fellow,  keep  away  from  the  sign 
of  the  Horse-shoe — a  man  of  your  sense  to  drink  and  make 
an  idiot  and  a  brute  of  yourself!  " 

"True!— And  it  was  only  when  I  had  lost  hope  I  took 
to  it — but  now!  Bring  me  the  book,  one  oi  yees,  out  of 
the  landlady's  parlour. — By  the  virtue  of  this  book,  and 
by  all  the  books  that  ever  was  shut  and  opened,  I  won't 
touch  a  drop  of  spirits,  good  or  bad,  till  I  see  your  honour 
again,  or  some  of  the  family,  this  time  twelvemonth — that 
long  I'll  live  on  hope — but  mind,  if  you  disappoint  me,  I 
don't  swear  but  I'll  take  to  the  whisky,  for  comfort,  all  the 
rest  of  my  days.  But  don't  be  staying  here,  wasting  your 
time,  advising  me.  Bartley !  take  the  reins,  can't  ye?" 
cried  he,  giving  them  to  the  fresh  postillion;  "and  keep 
on,  for  your  life,  for  there's  thousands  of  pounds  depend- 
ing on  the  race — so,  off,  off,  Bartley,  with  speed  of  light !  " 

Bartley  did  his  best ;  and  such  was  the  excellence  of  the 
roads,  that,  notwithstanding  the  rate  at  which  our  hero 
travelled,  he  arrived  safely  in  Dublin,  and  just  in  time  to 
put  his  letter  into  the  post-office,  and  to  sail  in  that  night's 
packet.  The  wind  was  fair  when  Lord  Colambre  went  on 
board,  but  before  they  got  out  of  the  bay  it  changed ;  they 
made  no  way  all  night ;  in  the  course  of  the  next  day,  they 
had  the  mortification  to  sec  another  packet  from  Dublin 
sail  past  them,  and  when  they  landed  at  Holyhead,  were 
told  the  packet,  which  had  left  Ireland  twelve  hours  after 
them,  had  been  in  an  hour  before  them.     The  passengers 

190 


THE  ABSENTEE 

had  taken  their  places  in  the  coach,  and  engaged  what 
horses  could  be  had.  Lord  Colambre  was  afraid  that  Mr. 
Garraghty  was  one  of  them ;  a  person  exactly  answering 
his  description  had  taken  four  horses,  and  set  out  half  an 
hour  before  in  great  haste  for  London.  Luckily,  just  as 
those  who  had  taken  their  places  in  the  mail  were  getting 
into  the  coach,  Lord  Colambre  saw  among  them  a  gentle- 
man, with  whom  he  had  been  acquainted  in  Dublin,  a  bar- 
rister, who  was  come  over  during  the  long  vacation,  to 
make  a  tour  of  pleasure  in  England.  When  Lord  Colambre 
explained  the  reason  he  had  for  being  in  haste  to  reach 
London,  he  had  the  good-nature  to  give  up  to  him  his 
place  in  the  coach.  Lord  Colambre  travelled  all  night, 
and  delayed  not  one  moment,  till  he  reached  his  father's 
house  in  London. 

"My  father  at  home?" 

"Yes,  my  lord,  in  his  own  room — the  agent  from  Ireland 
with  him,  on  particular  business — desired  not  to  be  inter- 
rupted— but  I'll  go  and  tell  him,  my  lord,  you  are  come." 

Lord  Colambre  ran  past  the  servant,  as  he  spoke — made 
his  way  into  the  room — found  his  father,  Sir  Terence 
O'Fay,  and  Mr.  Garraghty — leases  open  on  the  table  be- 
fore them ;  a  candle  lighted ;  Sir  Terence  sealing ;  Gar- 
raghty emptying  a  bag  of  guineas  on  the  table,  and  Lord 
Clonbrony  actually  with  a  pen  in  his  hand,  ready  to  sign. 

As  the  door  opened,  Garraghty  started  back,  so  that  half 
the  contents  of  his  bag  rolled  upon  the  floor. 

"Stop,  my  dear  father,  I  conjure  you,"  cried  Lord  Co- 
lambre, springing  forward,  and  kneeling  to  his  father;  at 
the  same  moment  snatching  the  pen  from  his  hand. 

"Colambre!  God  bless  you,  my  dear  boy  I  at  all  events. 
But  how  came  you  here? — And  what  do  you  mean?  "  said 
his  father. 

"Burn  it !  "  cried  Sir  Terence,  pinching  the  sealing-wax; 
"for  I  burnt  myself  with  the  pleasure  of  the  surprise." 

Garraghty,  without  saying  a  word,  was  picking  up  the 
guineas  that  were  scattered  upon  the  floor. 

"How  fortunate  I  am,"  cried  Lord  Colambre,  "to  have 
arrived  just  in  time  to  tell  you,  my  dear  father,  before 

191 


THE  ABSENTEE 

you  put  your  signature  to  these  papers,  before  you  con- 
clude this  bargain,  all  I  know,  all  I  have  seen,  of  that 
man ! ' ' 

"Nick  Garraghty,  honest  old  Nick;  do  you  know  him, 
my  lord?  "said  Sir  Terence. 

"Too  well,  sir." 

"Mr.  Garraghty,  what  have  you  done  to  offend  my  son? 
I  did  not  expect  this,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony. 

"Upon  my  conscience,  my  lord,  nothing  to  my  know- 
ledge," said  Mr.  Garraghty,  picking  up  the  guineas;  "but 
showed  him  every  civility,  even  so  far  as  offering  to  ac- 
commodate him  with  cash  without  security ;  and  where 
will  you  find  the  other  agent,  in  Ireland  or  anywhere  else, 
will  do  that?  To  my  knowledge,  I  never  did  anything,  by 
word  or  deed,  to  offend  my  Lord  Colambre ;  nor  could  not, 
for  I  never  saw  him,  but  for  ten  minutes,  in  my  days ;  and 
then  he  was  in  such  a  foaming  passion — begging  his  lord- 
ship's pardon — owing  to  the  misrepresentations  he  met 
with  of  me,  I  presume,  from  a  parcel  of  blackguards  that 
he  went  amongst,  incognito,  he  would  not  let  me  or  my 
brother  Dennis  say  a  word  to  set  him  right;  but  exposed 
me  before  all  the  tenantry,  and  then  threw  himself  into  a 
hack,  and  drove  off  here,  to  stop  the  signing  of  these 
leases,  I  perceive.  But  I  trust,"  concluded  he,  putting 
the  replenished  money-bag  down  with  a  heavy  sound  on 
the  table,  opposite  to  Lord  Clonbrony, — "I  trust,  my 
Lord  Clonbrony  will  do  me  justice;  that's  all  I  have  to 
say." 

"I  comprehend  the  force  of  your  last  argument  fully, 
sir,"  said  Lord  Colambre.  "May  I  ask  how  many  guineas 
there  are  in  the  bag?  I  don't  ask  whether  they  are  my 
father's  or  not." 

"They  are  to  be  your  lordship's  father's,  sir,  if  he  thinks 
proper,"  replied  Garraghty.  "How  many,  I  don't  know 
that  I  can  justly,  positively  say — five  hundred,  suppose." 

"And  they  would  be  my  father's  if  he  signed  those  leases 
— I  understand  that  perfectly,  and  understand  that  my 
father  would  lose  three  times  that  sum  by  the  bargain. — 
My  dear  father,  you  start— but  it  is  true.     Is  not  this  the 

192 


THE  ABSENTEE 

rent,  sir,  at  which  you  were  going  to  let  Mr.  Garraghty 
have  the  land? "  placing  a  paper  before  Lord  Clonbrony. 
"It  is — the  very  thing." 

"And  here,  sir,  written  with  my  own  hand,  are  copies  of 
the  proposals  I  saw,  from  responsible,  respectable  tenants, 
offered  and  refused. — Is  it  so,  or  is  it  not,  Mr.  Garraghty? 
— deny  it,  if  you  can." 

Mr.  Garraghty  grew  pale;  his  lips  quivered;  he  stam- 
mered ;  and,  after  a  shocking  convulsion  of  face,  could  at 
last  articulate — only — 

"That  there  was  a  great  difference  between  tenant  and 
tenant,  his  lordship  must  be  sensible,  especially  for  so  large 
a  rent." — "As  great  a  difference  as  between  agent  and 
agent,  I  am  sensible — especially  for  so  large  a  property!  " 
said  Lord  Colambre,  with  cool  contempt.  "You  find,  sir, 
I  am  well  informed  with  regard  to  this  transaction;  you 
will  find,  also,  that  I  am  equally  well  informed  with  respect 
to  every  part  of  your  conduct  towards  my  father  and  his 
tenantry.  If,  in  relating  to  him  what  I  have  seen  and 
heard,  I  should  make  any  mistakes,  you  are  here;  and  I 
am  glad  you  are,  to  set  me  right,  and  to  do  yourself 
justice." 

"Oh!  as  to  that,  I  should  not  presume  to  contradict 
anything  your  lordship  asserts  from  your  own  authority : 
where  would  be  the  use?  I  leave  it  all  to  your  lordship. 
But,  as  it  is  not  particularly  agreeable  to  stay  to  hear  one's 
self  abused — Sir  Terence!  I'll  thank  you  to  hand  me  my 
hat! — And  if  you'll  have  the  goodness,  my  Lord  Clon- 
brony, to  look  over  finally  the  accounts  before  morning, 
I'll  call  at  your  leisure  to  settle  the  balance,  as  you  find 
convenient;  as  to  the  leases,  I'm  quite  indifferent." 

So  saying,  he  took  up  his  money-bag. 

"Well,  you'll  call  again  in  the  morning,  Mr.  Garraghty  !  " 
said  Sir  Terence;  "and,  by  that  time,  I  hope  we  shall 
understand  this  misunderstanding  better." 

Sir  Terence  pulled  Lord  Clonbrony 's  sleeve:  "don't  let 
him  go  with  the  money — it's  much  wanted !  " 

"Let  him  go,"  said   Lord   Colambre;   "money  can  be 
had  by  honourable  means." 
X3  193 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Wheugh! — He  talks  as  if  he  had  the  Bank  of  England 
at  his  command,  as  every  young  man  does,"  said  Sir 
Terence. 

Lord  Colambre  deigned  no  reply.  Lord  Clonbrony 
walked  undecidedly  between  his  agent  and  his  son— looked 
at  Sir  Terence,  and  said  nothing. 

Mr.  Garraghty  departed;  Lord  Clonbrony  called  after 
him  from  the  head  of  the  stairs — 

"I  shall  be  at  home  and  at  leisure  in  the  morning."  Sir 
Terence  ran  downstairs  after  him ;  Lord  Colambre  waited 
quietly  for  their  return. 

"Fifteen  hundred  guineas,  at  a  stroke  of  a  goose-quill! — 
That  was  a  neat  hit,  narrowly  missed,  of  honest  Nick's!  " 
said  Lord  Clonbrony.  "Too  bad!  too  bad,  faith! — I  am 
much,  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Colambre,  for  that  hint; 
by  to-morrow  morning  we  shall  have  him  in  another  tune." 

"And  he  must  double  the  bag,  or  quit,"  said  Sir  Terence. 

"Treble  it,  if  you  please,  Terry.  Sure,  three  times  five's 
fifteen ; — fifteen  hundred  down,  or  he  does  not  get  my 
signature  to  those  leases  for  his  brother,  nor  get  the  agency 
of  the  Colambre  estate. — Colambre,  what  more  have  you 
to  tell  of  him?  for,  since  he  is  making  out  his  accounts 
against  me,  it  is  no  harm  to  have  a/rr  contra  against  him 
that  may  ease  my  balance." 

"Very  fair!  very  fair!"  said  Sir  Terence.  "My  lord, 
trust  me  for  remembering  all  the  charges  against  him — • 
every  item;  and  when  he  can't  clear  himself,  if  I  don't 
make  him  buy  a  good  character  dear  enough,  why,  say  I'm 
a  fool,  and  don't  know  the  value  of  character,  good  or 
bad!" 

"If  you  know  the  value  of  character.  Sir  Terence,"  said 
Lord  Colambre,  "you  know  that  it  is  not  to  be  bought  or 
sold."  Then,  turning  from  Sir  Terence  to  his  father,  he 
gave  a  full  and  true  account  of  all  he  had  seen  in  his  pro- 
gress through  his  Irish  estates;  and  drew  a  faithful  picture 
both  of  the  bad  and  good  agent.  Lord  Clonbrony,  who 
had  benevolent  feelings,  and  was  fond  of  his  tenantry,  was 
touched ;  and,  when  his  son  ceased  speaking,  repeated 
several  times — 

194 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Rascal!  rascal!  How  dare  he  use  my  tenants  so — the 
O'Neills  in  particular! — Rascal!  bad  heart! — I'll  have  no 
more  to  do  with  him."  But,  suddenly  recollecting  him- 
self, he  turned  to  Sir  Terence,  and  added,  "That's  sooner 

said  than  done I'll  tell  you  honestly,  Colambre,  your 

friend  Mr.  Burke  may  be  the  best  man  in  the  world — but 
he  is  the  worst  man  to  apply  to  for  a  remittance,  or  a  loan, 
in  a  hurry!  He  always  tells  me  'he  can't  distress  the 
tenants.'  " — "And  he  never,  at  coming  into  the  agency 
even,"  said  Sir  Terence,  ''advanced  z.  good  round  sum  to 
the  landlord,  by  way  of  security  for  his  good  behaviour. 
Now  honest  Nick  did  that  much  for  us  at  coming  in." 

"And  at  going  out  is  he  not  to  be  repaid?"  said  Lord 
Colambre. 

"That's  the  devil!"  said  Lord  Clonbrony;  "that's  the 
very  reason  I  can't  conveniently  turn  him  out." 

"I  will  make  it  convenient  to  you,  sir,  if  you  will  permit 
me,"  said  Lord  Colambre.  "In  a  few  days  I  shall  be  of 
age,  and  will  join  with  you  in  raising  whatever  sum  you 
want,  to  free  you  from  this  man.  Allow  me  to  look  over 
his  account ;  and  whatever  the  honest  balance  may  be,  let 
him  have  it." 

"My  dear  boy !  "  said  Lord  Clonbrony,  "you're  a  gener- 
ous fellow.  Fine  Irish  heart! — glad  you're  my  son !  But 
there's  more,  much  more,  that  you  don't  know,"  added 
he,  looking  at  Sir  Terence,  who  cleared  his  throat ;  and 
Lord  Clonbrony,  who  was  on  the  point  of  opening  all  his 
affairs  to  his  son,  stopped  short. 

"Colambre,"  said  he,  "we  will  not  say  anything  more 
of  this  at  present ;  for  nothing  effectual  can  be  done  till 
you  are  of  age,  and  then  we  shall  see  all  about  it." 

Lord  Colambre  perfectly  understood  what  his  father 
meant,  and  what  was  meant  by  the  clearing  of  Sir  Terence's 
throat.  Lord  Clonbrony  wanted  his  son  to  join  him  in 
opening  the  estate  to  pay  his  debts ;  and  Sir  Terence  feared 
that,  if  Lord  Colambre  were  abruptly  told  the  whole  sum 
total  of  the  debts,  he  would  never  be  persuaded  to  join 
in  selling  or  mortgaging  so  much  of  his  patrimony  as  would 
be  necessary  for  their  payment.     Sir  Terence  thought  that 

195 


THE  ABSENTEE 

the  young  man,  ignorant  probably  of  business,  and  un- 
•  suspicious  of  the  state  of  his  father's  affairs,  might  be 
brought,  by  proper  management,  to  any  measures  they 
desired.  Lord  Clonbrony  wavered  between  the  temptation 
to  throw  himself  upon  the  generosity  of  his  son,  and  the 
immediate  convenience  of  borrowing  a  sum  of  money  from 
his  agent,  to  relieve  his  present  embarrassments. 

"Nothing  can  be  settled,"  repeated  he,  "till  Colambre  is 
of  age;  so  it  does  not  signify  talking  of  it." 

"Why  so,  sir?  "  said  Lord  Colambre.  "Though  my  act, 
in  law,  may  not  be  valid,  till  I  am  of  age,  my  promise,  as 
a  man  of  honour,  is  binding  now;  and,  I  trust,  would  be 
as  satisfactory  to  my  father  as  any  legal  deed  whatever." 

"Undoubtedly,  my  dear  boy;  but " 

"But  what?  "  said  Lord  Colambre,  following  his  father's 
eye,  which  turned  to  Sir  Terence  O'Fay,  as  if  asking  his 
permission  to  explain. 

"As  my  father's  friend,  sir,  you  ought,  permit  me  to 
say,  at  this  moment  to  use  your  influence  to  prevail  upon 
him  to  throw  aside  all  reserve  with  a  son,  whose  warmest 
wish  is  to  serve  him,  and  to  see  him  at  ease  and  happy." 

"Generous,  dear  boy,"  cried  Lord  Clonbrony.  "Terence, 
I  can't  stand  it ;  but  how  shall  I  bring  myself  to  name  the 
amount  of  the  debts?  " 

"At  some  time  or  other,  I  must  know  it,"  said  Lord 
Colambre;  "I  cannot  be  better  prepared  at  any  moment 
than  the  present ;  never  more  disposed  to  give  my  assist- 
ance to  relieve  all  difficulties.  Blindfold,  I  cannot  be  led 
to  any  purpose,  sir,"  said  he,  looking  at  Sir  Terence;  "the 
attempt  would  be  degrading  and  futile.  Blindfolded  I  will 
not  be — but,  with  my  eyes  open,  I  will  see,  and  go  straight 
and  prompt  as  heart  can  go,  to  my  father's  interest,  with- 
out a  look  or  thought  to  my  own." 

"By  St.  Patrick!  the  spirit  of  a  prince,  and  an  Irish 
prince,  spoke  there,"  cried  Sir  Terence;  "and  if  I'd  fifty 
hearts,  you'd  have  all  in  your  hand  this  minute,  at  your 
service,  and  warm.  Blindfold  you !  after  that,  the  man 
that  would  attempt  it  dcsarvcs  to  be  shot;  and  I'd  have 
no  sincerer  pleasure  in  life  than  shooting  him  this  moment, 

196 


THE  ABSENTEE 

was  he  my  best  friend.  But  it  's  not  Clonbrony,  your 
father,  my  lord,  would  act  that  way,  no  more  than  Sir 
Terence  O'Fay — there's  the  schedule  of  the  debts,"  draw- 
ing a  paper  from  his  bosom  ;  "and  I'll  swear  to  the  lot,  and 
not  a  man  on  earth  could  do  that  but  myself." 

Lord  Colambre  .opened  the  paper.  His  father  turned 
aside,  covering  his  face  with  both  his  hands. 

"Tut,  man,"  said  Sir  Terence;  "I  know  him  now  better 
than  you  ;  he  will  stand,  you'll  find,  the  shock  of  that  regi- 
ment of  figures — he  is  steel  to  the  backbone,  and  proof 
spirit." 

"I  thank  you,  my  dear  father,"  said  Lord  Colambre, 
"for  trusting  me  thus  at  once  with  a  view  of  the  truth. 
At  first  sight  it  is,  I  acknowledge,  worse  than  I  expected ; 
but  I  make  no  doubt  that,  when  you  allow  me  to  examine 
Mr.  Garraghty's  accounts  and  Mr.  Mordicai's  claims,  we 
shall  be  able  to  reduce  this  alarming  total  considerably,  my 
dear  father.  You  think  we  learn  nothing  but  Latin  and 
Greek  at  Cambridge;  but  you  are  mistaken." 

"The  devil  a  pound,  nor  a  penny,"  said  Sir  Terence; 
"for  you  have  to  deal  with  a  Jew  and  old  Nick;  and  I'm 
not  a  match  for  them.  I  don't  know  who  is;  and  I  have 
no  hope  of  getting  any  abatement.  I've  looked  over  the 
accounts  till  I'm  sick." 

"Nevertheless,  you  will  observe  that  fifteen  hundred 
guineas  have  been  saved  to  my  father,  at  one  stroke,  by 
his  not  signing  those  leases." 

"Saved  to  you,  my  lord;  not  your  father,  if  you  plase," 
said  Sir  Terence.  "For  now  I'm  upon  the  square  with 
you,  I  must  be  straight  as  an  arrow,  and  deal  with  you 
as  the  son  and  friend  of  my  friend ;  before,  I  was  con- 
sidering you  only  as  the  son  and  heir,  which  is  quite  an- 
other thing,  you  know;  accordingly,  acting  for  your  father 
here,  I  was  making  the  best  bargain  against  you  I  could ; 
honestly,  now,  I  tell  you.  I  knew  the  value  of  the  lands 
well  enough ;  we  were  as  sharp  as  Garraghty,  and  he  knew 
it;  we  were  to  have  had  tJie  difference  from  him,  partly  in 
cash  and  partly  in  balance  of  accounts — you  comprehend — 
and  you  only  would  have  been  the  loser,  and  never  would 

197 


THE  ABSENTEE 

have  known  it,  maybe,  till  after  we  all  were  dead  and 
buried ;  and  then  you  might  have  set  aside  Garraghty's 
lease  easy,  and  no  harm  done  to  any  but  a  rogue  that  de- 
sarved  it ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  an  accommodation  to  my 
honest  friend,  my  lord,  your  father,  here.  But,  as  fate 
would  have  it,  you  upset  all  by  your  progress  incognito 
through  them  estates.  Well,  it's  best  as  it  is,  and  I  am 
better  pleased  to  be  as  we  are,  trusting  all  to  a  generous 
son's  own  heart.  Now  put  the  poor  father  out  of  pain, 
and  tell  us  what  you'll  do,  my  dear." 

"In  one  word,  then,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  "I  will,  upon 
two  conditions,  either  join  my  father  in  levying  fines  to 
enable  him  to  sell  or  mortgage  whatever  portion  of  his 
estate  is  necessary  for  the  payment  of  these  debts ;  or  I 
will,  in  whatever  other  mode  he  can  point  out,  as  more 
agreeable  or  more  advantageous  to  him,  join  in  giving 
security  to  his  creditors." 

"Dear,  noble  fellow!  "  cried  Sir  Terence;  "none  but  an 
Irishman  could  do  it." 

Lord  Clonbrony,  melted  to  tears,  could  not  articulate, 
but  held  his  arms  open  to  embrace  his  son. 

"But  you  have  not  heard  my  conditions  yet,"  said  Lord 
Colambre. 

"Oh,  confound  the  conditions!  "  cried  Sir  Terence. 

"What  conditions  could  he  ask  that  I  could  refuse  at 
this  minute?"  said  Lord  Clonbrony. 

"Nor  I — was  it  my  heart's  blood,  and  were  I  to  be 
hanged  for  it,"  cried  Sir  Terence.  "And  what  are  the 
conditions? " 

"That  Mr.  Garraghty  shall  be  dismissed  from  the 
agency." 

"And  welcome,  and  glad  to  get  rid  of  him — the  rogue, 
the  tyrant,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony;  "and,  to  be  beforehand 
with  you  in  your  next  wish,  put  Mr.  Burke  into  his  place." 

"I'll  write  the  letter  for  you  to  sign,  my  lord,  this 
minute,"  cried  Terry,  "with  all  the  pleasure  in  life.  No; 
it's  my  Lord  Colambre  should  do  that  in  all  justice." 

"But  what's  your  next  condition?  I  hoj^e  it's  no  worse," 
said  Lord  Clonbrony. 

198 


THE  ABSENTEE 

That  you  and  my  mother  should  cease  to  be  absentees. ' ' 

"Oh  murder!  "  said  Sir  Terence;  "maybe  that's  not  so 
easy;  for  there  are  two  words  to  that  bargain." 

Lord  Clonbrony  declared  that,  for  his  own  part,  he  was 
ready  to  return  to  Ireland  next  morning,  and  to  promise  to 
reside  on  his  estate  all  the  rest  of  his  days ;  that  there  was 
nothing  he  desired  more,  provided  Lady  Clonbrony  would 
consent  to  it;  but  that  he  could  not  promise  for  her;  that 
she  was  as  obstinate  as  a  mule  on  that  point ;  that  he  had 
often  tried,  but  that  there  was  no  moving  her;  and  that,  in 
short,  he  could  not  promise  on  her  part. 

But  it  was  on  this  condition,  Lord  Colambre  said,  he 
must  insist.  Without  this  condition  was  granted,  he  would 
not  engage  to  do  anything. 

"Well,  we  must  only  see  how  it  will  be  when  she  comes 
to  town;  she  will  come  up  from  Buxton  the  day  you're  of 
age  to  sign  some  papers,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony;  "but," 
added  he,  with  a  very  dejected  look  and  voice,  "if  all's  to 
depend  on  my  Lady  Clonbrony's  consenting  to  return  to 
Ireland,  I'm  as  far  from  all  hope  of  being  at  ease  as 
ever. 

"Upon  my  conscience,  we're  all  at  sea  again,"  said  Sir 
Terence. 

Lord  Colambre  was  silent :  but  in  his  silence  there  was 
such  an  air  of  firmness,  that  both  Lord  Clonbrony  and  Sir 
Terence  were  convinced  entreaties  would  on  this  point  be 
fruitless — Lord  Clonbrony  sighed  deeply. 

"But  when  it's  ruin  or  safety,  and  her  husband  and  all 
belonging  to  her  at  stake,  the  woman  can't  persist  in  being 
a  mule,"  said  Sir  Terence. 

"Of  whom  are  you  talking?"  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"Of  whom?  Oh,  I  beg  your  lordship's  pardon  —  I 
thought  I  was  talking  to  my  lord ;  but,  in  other  words,  as 
you  are  her  son,  I'm  persuaded  her  ladyship,  your  mother, 
will  prove  herself  a  reasonable  woman- — when  she  sees  she 
can't  help  it.  So,  my  Lord  Clonbrony,  cheer  up;  a  great 
deal  may  be  done  by  the  fear  of  Mordicai,  and  an  execu- 
tion, especially  now  the  prior  creditor.  Since  there's  no 
reserve  between  you  and  I  now,  my  Lord  Colambre,"  said 

199 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Sir  Terence,  "I  must  tell  you  all,  and  how  we  shambled  on 
those  months  while  you  were  in  Ireland.  First,  Mordicai 
went  to  law,  to  prove  I  was  in  a  conspiracy  with  your 
father,  pretending  to  be  prior  creditor,  to  keep  him  off  and 
out  of  his  own ;  which,  after  a  world  of  swearing  and  law — 
law  always  takes  time  to  do  justice,  that's  one  comfort — - 
the  villain  proved  at  last  to  be  true  enough,  and  so  cast  us; 
and  I  was  forced  to  be  paid  ofT  last  week.  So  there's  no 
prior  creditor,  or  any  shield  of  pretence  that  way.  Then 
his  execution  was  coming  down  upon  us,  and  nothing  to 
stay  it  till  I  thought  of  a  monthly  annuity  to  Mordicai,  in 
the  shape  of  a  wager.  So,  the  morning  after  he  cast  us,  I 
went  to  him:  'Mr.  Mordicai,'  says  I,  'you  must  be  plased 
to  see  a  man  you've  beaten  so  handsomely;  and  though. 
I'm  sore,  both  for  myself  and  my  friend,  yet  you  see  I  can 
laugh  still ;  though  an  execution  is  no  laughing  matter,  and 
I'm  sinsible  you've  one  in  petto  in  your  sleeve  for  my 
friend  Lord  Clonbrony.  But  I'll  lay  you  a  wager  of  a 
hundred  guineas  in  paper  that  a  marriage  of  his  son  with  a 
certain  heiress,  before  next  Lady-day,  will  set  all  to  rights, 
and  pay  you  with  a  compliment  too.'  " 

"Good  heavens,  Sir  Terence!  surely  you  said  no  such 
thing?  " 

"I  did — but  what  was  it  but  a  wager?  which  is  nothing 
but  a  dream ;  and,  when  lost,  as  I  am  as  sinsible  as  you  are 
that  it  must  be,  why,  what  is  it,  after  all,  but  a  bonus,  in 
a  gentleman-like  form,  to  Mordicai?  which,  I  grant  you, 
is  more  than  he  deserves,  for  staying  the  execution  till  you 
be  of  age;  and  even  for  my  Lady  Clonbrony 's  sake,  though 
I  know  she  hates  me  like  poison,  rather  than  have  her  dis- 
turbed by  an  execution,  I'd  pay  the  hundred  guineas  this 
minute  out  of  my  own  pocket,  if  I  had  'em  in  it." 

A  thundering  knock  at  the  door  was  heard  at  this 
moment. 

"Never  heed  it;  let  'em  thunder,"  said  Sir  Terence; 
"whoever  it  is,  they  won't  get  in;  for  my  lord  bid  them 
let  none  in  for  their  life.  It's  necessary  for  us  to  be  very 
particular  about  the  street-door  now  ;  and  I  advise  a  double 
chain  for  it,  and  to  have  the  footmen  well  tutored  to  look 

200 


THE  ABSENTEE 

before  they  run  to  a  double  rap  ;  for  a  double  rap  might  be 
a  double  trap." 

"My  lady  and  Miss  Nugent,  my  lord,"  said  a  footman, 
throwing  open  the  door. 

"My  mother!  Miss  Nugent!"  cried  Lord  Colambre, 
springing  eagerly  forward. 

"Colambre!  here!"  said  his  mother;  "but  it's  all  too 
late  now,  and  no  matter  where  you  are." 

Lady  Clonbrony  coldly  suffered  her  son  to  embrace  her ; 
and  he,  without  considering  the  coldness  of  her  manner, 
scarcely  hearing,  and  not  at  all  understanding  the  words  she 
said,  fixed  his  eyes  on  his  cousin,  who,  with  a  countenance 
all  radiant  with  affectionate  joy,  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"Dear  cousin  Colambre,  what  an  unexpected  pleasure!" 

He  seized  the  hand ;  but,  as  he  was  going  to  kiss  it,  the 
recollection  of  St.  Omar  crossed  his  mind ;  he  checked  him- 
self, and  said  something  about  joy  and  pleasure,  but  his 
countenance  expressed  neither;  and  Miss  Nugent,  much 
surprised  by  the  coldness  of  his  manner,  withdrew  her 
hand,  and,  turning  away,  left  the  room. 

"Grace!  darling!  "  called  Lord  Clonbrony,  "whither  so 
fast,  before  you've  given  me  a  word  or  a  kiss?  " 

She  came  back,  and  hastily  kissed  her  uncle,  who  folded 
her  in  his  arms.  "Why  must  I  let  you  go?  And  what 
makes  you  so  pale,  my  dear  child?" 

"I  am  a  little — a  little  tired.  I  will  be  with  you  again 
soon." 

Her  uncle  let  her  go. 

"Your  famous  Buxton  baths  don't  seem  to  have  agreed 
with  her,  by  all  I  can  see,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony. 

"My  lord,  the  Buxton  baths  are  no  way  to  blame;  but 
I  know  what  is  to  blame,  and  who  is  to  blame,"  said  Lady 
Clonbrony,  in  a  tone  of  displeasure,  fixing  her  eyes  upon 
her  son.  "Yes,  you  may  well  look  confounded,  Colambre  ; 
but  it  is  too  late  now — you  should  have  known  your  own 
mind  in  time.  I  see  you  have  heard  it,  then — but  I  am 
sure  I  don't  know  how;  for  it  was  only  decided  the  day  I 
left  Buxton.  The  news  could  hardly  travel  faster  than  I 
did.     Pray,  how  did  you  hear  it?  " 

20I 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Hear  what,  ma'am?"  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"Why,  that  Miss  Broadhurst  is  going  to  be  married." 

"Oh,  is  that  all,  ma'am!  "  said  our  hero,  much  relieved. 

"All!  Now,  Lord  Colambre,  you  redly  are  too  much 
for  my  patience.  But  I  flatter  myself  you  will  feel,  when 
I  tell  you,  that  it  is  your  friend.  Sir  Arthur  Berryl,  as  I 
always  prophesied,  who  has  carried  off  the  prize  from  you." 

' '  But  for  the  fear  of  displeasing  my  dear  mother,  I  should 
say,  that  I  do  feel  sincere  pleasure  in  this  marriage — I  al- 
ways wished  it :  my  friend.  Sir  Arthur,  from  the  first 
moment,  trusted  me  with  the  secret  of  his  attachment ;  he 
knew  that  he  had  my  warm  good  wishes  for  his  success ;  he 
knew  that  I  thought  most  highly  of  the  young  lady ;  but 
that  I  never  thought  of  her  as  a  wife  for  myself." 

"And  why  did  not  you?  that  is  the  very  thing  I  com- 
plain of,"  said  Lady  Clonbrony.  "But  it  is  all  over  now. 
You  may  set  your  heart  at  ease,  for  they  are  to  be  married 
on  Thursday;  and  poor  Mrs.  Broadhurst  is  ready  to  break 
her  heart,  for  she  was  set  upon  a  coronet  for  her  daughter; 
and  you,  ungrateful  as  you  are,  you  don't  know  how  she 
wished  you  to  be  the  happy  man.  But  only  conceive, 
after  all  that  has  passed.  Miss  Broadhurst  had  the  assurance 
to  expect  I  would  let  my  niece  be  her  bridesmaid.  Oh,  I 
flatly  refused ;  that  is,  I  told  Grace  it  could  not  be ;  and, 
that  there  might  be  no  affront  to  Mrs.  Broadhurst,  who 
did  not  deserve  it,  I  pretended  Grace  had  never  mentioned 
it ;  but  ordered  my  carriage,  and  left  Buxton  directly. 
Grace  was  hurt,  for  she  is  very  warm  in  her  friendships.  I 
am  sorry  to  hurt  Grace.  But  redly  I  could  not  let  her  be 
bridesmaid ; — and  that,  if  you  must  know,  is  what  vexed 
her,  and  made  the  tears  come  in  her  eyes,  I  suppose — and 
I'm  sorry  for  it;  but  one  must  keep  up  one's  dignity  a 
little.  After  all.  Miss  Broadhurst  was  only  a  citizen — and 
redly  now,  a  very  odd  girl;  never  did  anything  like  any- 
body else ;  settled  her  marriage  at  last  in  the  oddest  way. 
Grace,  can  you  tell  the  particulars?  I  own,  I  am  tired  of 
the  subject,  and  tired  of  my  journey.  My  lord,  I  shall 
take  leave  to  dine  in  my  own  room  to-day,"  continued  her 
ladyship,  as  she  quitted  the  room. 

202 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"I  hope  her  ladyship  did  not  notice  me,"  said  Sir  Terence 
O'Fay,  coming  from  behind  a  window-curtain. 

"Why,  Terry,  what  did  you  hide  for?"  said  Lord  Clon- 
brony. 

"Hide!  I  didn't  hide,  nor  wouldn't  from  any  man  liv- 
ing, let  alone  any  woman.'  Hide!  no;  but  I  just  stood 
looking  out  of  the  window,  behind  this  curtain,  that  my 
poor  Lady  Clonbrony  might  not  be  discomfited  and  shocked 
by  the  sight  of  one  whom  she  can't  abide,  the  very  minute 
she  come  home.  Oh,  I've  some  consideration — it  would 
have  put  her  out  of  humour  worse  with  both  of  you  too; 
and  for  that  there's  no  need,  as  far  as  I  see.  So  I'll  take 
myself  off  to  my  coffee-house  to  dine,  and  maybe  you  may 
get  her  down  and  into  spirits  again.  But,  for  your  lives, 
don't  touch  upon  Ireland  the  night,  nor  till  she  has  fairly 
got  the  better  of  the  marriage.  Apropos — there's  my  wager 
to  Mordicai  gone  at  a  slap.  It's  I  that  ought  to  be  scold- 
ing you,  my  Lord  Colambre ;  but  I  trust  you  will  do  as 
well  yet,  not  in  point  of  purse,  maybe.  But  I'm  not  one 
of  those  that  think  that  money's  everything — though,  I 
grant  you,  in  this  world,  there's  nothing  to  be  had  without 
it — love  excepted — which  most  people  don't  believe  in — 
but  not  I — in  particular  cases.  So  I  leave  you,  with  my 
blessing,  and  I've  a  notion,  at  this  time,  that  is  better  than 
my  company — your  most  devoted " 

The  good-natured  Sir  Terence  would  not  be  persuaded 
by  Lord  Clonbrony  to  stay.  Nodding  at  Lord  Colambre 
as  he  went  out  of  the  room,  he  said,  "I've  an  eye,  in  go- 
ing, to  your  heart's  ease  too.  When  I  played  myself,  I 
never  liked  standers-by." 

Sir  Terence  was  not  deficient  in  penetration,  but  he 
never  could  help  boasting  of  his  discoveries. 

Lord  Colambre  was  grateful  for  his  judicious  departure; 
and  followed  his  equally  judicious  advice,  not  to  touch 
upon  Ireland  this  night. 

Lady  Clonbrony  was  full  of  Buxton,  and  he  was  glad  to 
be  relieved  from  the  necessity  of  talking;  and  he  indulged 
himself   in    considering   what    might    be    passing  in   Miss 

'  Leaving  any  woman  out  of  the  question. 
203 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Nugent's  mind.  She  now  appeared  in  remarkably  good 
spirits ;  for  her  aunt  had  given  her  a  hint  that  she  thought 
her  out  of  humour  because  she  had  not  been  permitted  to 
be  Miss  Broadhurst's  bridesmaid,  and  she  was  determined 
to  exert  herself  to  dispel  this  notion.  This  it  was  now 
easy  for  her  to  do,  because  she  had,  by  this  time,  in  her 
own  imagination,  found  a  plausible  excuse  for  that  cold- 
ness in  Lord  Colambre's  reception  of  her,  by  which  she  had 
at  first  been  hurt ;  she  had  settled  it,  that  he  had  taken  it 
for  granted  she  was  of  his  mother's  sentiments  respecting 
Miss  Broadhurst's  marriage,  and  that  this  idea,  and  per- 
haps the  apprehension  of  her  reproaches,  had  caused  his 
embarrassment — she  knew  that  she  could  easily  set  this 
misunderstanding  right.  Accordingly,  when  Lady  Clon- 
brony  had  talked  herself  to  sleep  about  Buxton,  and  was 
taking  her  afternoon's  nap,  as  it  was  her  custom  to  do 
when  she  had  neither  cards  nor  company  to  keep  her 
awake,  Miss  Nugent  began  to  explain  her  own  sentiments, 
and  to  give  Lord  Colambre,  as  her  aunt  had  desired,  an 
account  of  the  manner  in  which  Miss  Broadhurst's  marriage 
had  been  settled. 

"In  the  first  place,"  said  she,  "let  me  assure  you  that  I 
rejoice  in  this  marriage;  I  think  your  friend.  Sir  Arthur 
Berryl,  is  every  way  deserving  of  my  friend.  Miss  Broad- 
hurst ;  and  this  from  me,"  said  she,  smiling,  "is  no  slight 
eulogium.  I  have  marked  the  rise  and  progress  of  their 
attachment ;  and  it  has  been  founded  on  the  perception  of 
such  excellent  qualities  on  each  side,  that  I  have  no  fear 
for  its  permanence.  Sir  Arthur  Berryl's  honourable  con- 
duct in  paying  his  father's  debts,  and  his  generosity  to  his 
mother  and  sisters,  whose  fortunes  were  left  entirely  de- 
pendent upon  him,  first  pleased  my  friend.  It  was  like 
what  she  would  have  done  herself,  and  like— in  short,  it  is 
what  few  young  men,  as  she  said,  of  the  present  day  would, 
do.  Then  his  refraining  from  all  personal  expenses,  his 
going  without  equipage  and  without  horses,  that  he  might 
do  what  he  felt  to  be  right,  whilst  it  exposed  him  con- 
tinually to  the  ridicule  of  fashionable  young  men,  or  to  the 
charge  of  avarice,    made   a   very  different  impression   on 

204 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Miss  Broadhurst's  mind;  her  esteem  and  admiration  were 
excited  by  these  proofs  of  strength  of  character,  and  of 
just  and  good  principles." 

"If  you  go  on,  you  will  make  me  envious  and  jealous  of 
my  friend,"  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"You  jealous! — Oh,  it  is  too  late  now — besides,  you 
cannot  be  jealous,  for  you  never  loved." 

"I  never  loved  Miss  Broadhurst,  I  acknowledge," 

"There  was  the  advantage  Sir  Arthur  Berryl  had  over 
you — he  loved,  and  my  friend  saw  it." 

"She  was  clear-sighted,"  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"She  was  clear-sighted,"  repeated  Miss  Nugent;  "but 
if  you  mean  that  she  was  vain,  and  apt  to  fancy  people  in 
love  with  her,  I  can  assure  you  that  you  are  mistaken. 
Never  was  woman,  young  or  old,  more  clear-sighted  to  the 
views  of  those  by  whom  she  was  addressed.  No  flattery, 
no  fashion,  could  blind  her  judgment." 

"She  knew  how  to  choose  a  friend  well,  I  am  sure," 
said  Lord  Colambre. 

"And  a  friend  for  life  too,  I  am  sure  you  will  allow — and 
she  had  such  numbers,  such  strange  variety  of  admirers, 
as  might  have  puzzled  the  choice  and  turned  the  brain  of 
any  inferior  person.  Such  a  succession  of  lovers  as  she  has 
had  this  summer,  ever  since  you  went  to  Ireland — they  ap- 
peared and  vanished  like  figures  in  a  magic-lantern.  She 
had  three  noble  admirers — rank  in  three  different  forms 
offered  themselves.  First  came  in,  hobbling,  rank  and 
gout;  next,  rank  and  gaming;  then  rank,  very  high  rank, 
over  head  and  ears  in  debt.  All  of  these  were  rejected ; 
and,  as  they  moved  off,  I  thought  Mrs.  Broadhurst  would 
have  broken  her  heart.  Next  came  fashion,  with  his  head, 
heart,  and  soul  in  his  cravat — he  quickly  made  his  bow,  or 
rather  his  nod,  and  walked  off,  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff. 
Then  came  a  man  of  gallantry,  but,"  whispered  Miss 
Nugent,  "there  was  a  mistress  in  the  wood;  and  my  friend 
could  have  nothing  to  do  with  that  gentleman." 

"Now,  if  she  liked  the  man,"  interrupted  Lord  Clon- 
brony,  "and  I  suppose  she  did,  for  all  women,  but  your- 
self, Grace,  like  men  of  gallantry.  Miss  Broadhurst  was  a 

205 


THE  ABSENTEE 

goose  for  refusing  him  on  account  of  the  mistress;  because 
she  might  have  been  bought  up,  and  settled  with  a  few 
thousand  pounds," 

"Be  that  as  it  may,"  said  Miss  Nugent;  "my  friend  did 
not  like,  and  would  not  accept,  of  the  man  of  gallantry; 
so  he  retired  and  comforted  himself  with  a  copy  of  verses. 
Then  came  a  man  of  wit — but  still  it  was  wit  without 
worth;  and  presently  came  'worth  without  wit.'  She  pre- 
ferred 'wit  and  worth  united,'  which  she  fortunately  at  last 
found,  Lord  Colambre,  in  your  friend,  Sir  Arthur  Berryl," 

"Grace,  my  girl!"  said  her  uncle,  "I'm  glad  to  see 
you've  got  up  your  spirits  again,  though  you  were  not  to  be 
bridesmaid.  Well,  I  hope  you'll  be  bride  soon — I'm  sure 
you  ought  to  be — and  you  should  think  of  rewarding  that 
poor  Mr.  Salisbury,  who  plagues  me  to  death,  whenever 
he  can  catch  hold  of  me,  about  you.  He  must  have  our 
definitive  at  last,  you  know,  Grace." 

A  silence  ensued,  which  neither  Miss  Nugent  nor  Lord 
Colambre  seemed  willing,  or  able,  to  break. 

"Very  good  company,  faith,  you  three! — One  of  ye 
asleep,  and  the  other  two  saying  nothing,  to  keep  one 
awake.  Colambre,  have  you  no  Dublin  news?  Grace, 
have  you  no  Buxton  scandal?  What  was  it  Lady  Clon- 
brony  told  us  you'd  tell  us,  about  the  oddness  of  Miss 
Broadhurst's  settling  her  marriage?  Tell  me  that,  for  I 
love  to  hear  odd  things." 

"Perhaps  you  will  not  think  it  odd,"  said  she.  "One 
evening — but  I  should  begin  by  telling  you  that  three  of 
her  admirers,  beside  Sir  Arthur  Berryl,  had  followed  her  to 
Buxton,  and  had  been  paying  their  court  to  her  all  the 
time  we  were  there ;  and  at  last  grew  impatient  for  her 
decision." 

"Ay,  for  her  definitive!"  said  Lord  Clonbrony.  Miss 
Nugent  was  put  out  again,  but  resumed — 

"So  one  evening,  just  before  the  dancing  began,  the 
gentlemen  were  all  standing  round  Miss  Broadhurst ;  one 
of  them  said,  'I  wish  Miss  Broadhurst  would  decide — that 
whoever  she  dances  with  to-night  should  be  her  partner 
for  life;  what  a  happy  man  he  would  be!' 

206 


'  P'irst  came  in,  hobbling,  rank  and  gout ;  next,  rank  and  gaming. 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"  'But  how  can  I  decide?'  said  Miss  Broadhurst. 

"  'I  wish  I  had  a  friend  to  plead  for  me!  '  said  one  of 
the  suitors,  looking  at  me. 

"  'Have  you  no  friend  of  your  own?'  said  Miss  Broad- 
hurst. 

"  'Plenty  of  friends,'  said  the  gentleman. 

"'Plenty! — then  you  must  be  a  very  happy  man,'  re- 
plied Miss  Broadhurst.  'Come,'  said  she,  laughing,  'I  will 
dance  with  that  man  who  can  convince  me — that  he  has, 
near  relations  excepted,  one  true  friend  in  the  world ! 
That  man  who  has  made  the  best  friend,  I  dare  say,  will 
make  the  best  husband  ! ' 

"At  that  moment,"  continued  Miss  Nugent,  "I  was 
certain  who  would  be  her  choice.  The  gentlemen  all  de- 
clared at  first  that  they  had  abundance  of  excellent  friends 
— the  best  friends  in  the  world  !  but  when  Miss  Broadhurst 
cross-examined  them,  as  to  what  their  friends  had  done  for 
them,  or  what  they  were  willing  to  do,  modern  friendship 
dwindled  into  a  ridiculously  small  compass.  I  cannot  give 
you  the  particulars  of  the  cross-examination,  though  it  was 
conducted  with  great  spirit  and  humour  by  Miss  Broad- 
hurst ;  but  I  can  tell  you  the  result — that  Sir  Arthur 
Berryl,  by  incontrovertible  facts,  and  eloquence  warm 
from  the  heart,  convinced  everybody  present  that  he  had 
the  best  friend  in  the  world;  and  Miss  Broadhurst,  as  he 
finished  speaking,  gave  him  her  hand,  and  he  led  her  off 

in  triumph So  you  see,  Lord  Colambre,  you  were  at 

last  the  cause  of  my  friend's  marriage !  " 

She  turned  to  Lord  Colambre  as  she  spoke  these  words, 
with  such  an  affectionate  smile,  and  such  an  expression  of 
open,  inmost  tenderness  in  her  whole  countenance,  that 
our  hero  could  hardly  resist  the  impulse  of  his  passion — 
could  hardly  restrain  himself  from  falling  at  her  feet  that 
instant,  and  declaring  his  love.  "But  St.  Omar!  St. 
Omar! — It  must  not  be!  " 

"I  must  be  gone!"  said  Lord  Clonbrony,  pulling  out 
his  watch.  "It  is  time  to  go  to  my  club;  and  poor  Terry 
will  wonder  what  has  become  of  me." 

Lord  Colambre  instantly  offered  to  accompany  his  father; 

207 


THE  ABSENTEE 

much  to  Lord  Clonbrony's,  and  more  to  Miss  Nugent's 
surprise. 

"What !  "  said  she  to  herself,  "after  so  long  an  absence, 
leave  me ! — Leave  his  mother,  with  whom  he  always  used 
to  stay — on  purpose  to  avoid  me !  What  can  I  have  done 
to  displease  him?  It  is  clear  it  was  not  about  Miss  Broad- 
hurst's  marriage  he  was  offended;  for  he  looked  pleased, 
and  like  himself,  whilst  I  was  talking  of  that ;  but  the  mo- 
ment afterwards,  what  a  constrained,  unintelligible  ex- 
pression of  countenance — and  leaves  me  to  go  to  a  club 
which  he  detests  !  ' ' 

As  the  gentlemen  shut  the  door  on  leaving  the  room, 
Lady  Clonbrony  wakened,  and,  starting  up,  exclaimed- — 

"What's  the  matter?  Are  they  gone?  Is  Colambre 
gone?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  with  my  uncle." 

"Very  odd!  very  odd  of  him  to  go  and  leave  me!  he 
always  used  to  stay  with  me — what  did  he  say  about  me?" 

"Nothing,  ma'am." 

"Well,  then,  I  have  nothing  to  say  about  him,  or  about 
anything,  indeed,  for  I'm  excessively  tired  and  stupid — 
alone  in  Lon'on's  as  bad  as  anywhere  else.  Ring  the  bell, 
and  we'll  go  to  bed  directly — if  you  have  no  objection, 
Grace." 

Grace  made  no  objection ;  Lady  Clonbrony  went  to  bed 
and  to  sleep  in  ten  minutes.  Miss  Nugent  went  to  bed; 
but  she  lay  awake,  considering  what  could  be  the  cause  of 
her  cousin  Colambre's  hard  unkindness,  and  of  "his  altered 
eye."  She  was  openness  itself;  and  she  determined  that, 
the  first  moment  she  could  speak  to  him  alone,  she  would 
at  once  ask  for  an  explanation.  With  this  resolution,  she 
rose  in  the  morning,  and  went  down  to  the  breakfast-room, 
in  hopes  of  meeting  him,  as  it  had  formerly  been  his  cus- 
tom to  be  early ;  and  she  expected  to  find  him  reading  in 
his  usual  place. 


208 


THE  ABSENTEE 
CHAPTER   XIV. 

NO — Lord  Colambre  was  not  in  his  accustomed  place, 
reading  in  the  breakfast-room  :  nor  did  he  make  his 
appearance  till  both  his  father  and  mother  had  been 
some  time  at  breakfast. 

"Good  morning  to  you,  my  Lord  Colambre,"  said  his 
mother,  in  a  reproachful  tone,  the  moment  he  entered ; 
"I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  company  last  night," 

"Good  morning  to  you,  Colambre,"  said  his  father,  in  a 
more  jocose  tone  of  reproach;  "I  am  obliged  to  you  for 
your  good  company  last  night." 

"Good  morning  to  you,  Lord  Colambre,"  said  Miss 
Nugent ;  and  though  she  endeavoured  to  throw  all  re- 
proach from  her  looks,  and  to  let  none  be  heard  in  her 
voice,  yet  there  was  a  slight  tremulous  motion  in  that 
voice  which  struck  our  hero  to  the  heart. 

"I  thank  you,  ma'am,  for  missing  me,"  said  he,  address- 
ing himself  to  his  mother;  "I  stayed  away  but  half  an 
hour;  I  accompanied  my  father  to  St.  James's  Street,  and 
when  I  returned  I  found  that  every  one  had  retired  to 
rest." 

"Oh,  was  that  the  case?  "  said  Lady  Clonbrony ;  "I  own 
I  thought  it  very  unlike  you  to  leave  me  in  that  sort  of 
way. 

"And,  lest  you  should  be  jealous  of  that  half-hour  when 
he  was  accompanying  me,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony,  "I  must 
remark,  that,  though  I  had  his  body  with  me,  I  had  none 
of  his  mind ;  that  he  left  at  home  with  you  ladies,  or  with 
some  fair  one  across  the  water,  for  the  deuce  of  two  words 
did  he  bestow  upon  me,  with  all  his  pretence  of  accompany- 
ing me." 

"Lord  Colambre  seems  to  have  a  fair  chance  of  a  pleasant 
breakfast,"  said  Miss  Nugent,  smiling;  "reproaches  on  all 
sides." 

"I  have  heard  none  on  your  side,  Grace,"  said  Lord 

Clonbrony;  "and  that's  the  reason,  I  suppose,  he  wisely 

takes  his  seat  beside  you.     But,  come,  we  will  not  badger 

you  any  more,  my  dear  boy.     We  have  given  him  as  fine 

^4  209 


THE  ABSENTEE 

a  complexion  amongst  us  as  if  he  had  been  out  hunting 
these  three  hours;  have  not  we,  Grace?" 

"When  Colambre  has  been  a  season  or  two  more  in 
Lon'on,  he'll  not  be  so  easily  put  out  of  countenance," 
said  Lady  Clonbrony  ;  "you  don't  see  young  men  of  fashion 
here  blushing  about  nothing." 

"No,  nor  about  anything,  my  dear,"  said  Lord  Clon- 
brony; "but  that's  no  proof  they  do  nothing  they  ought 
to  blush  for." 

"What  they  do,  there's  no  occasion  for  ladies  to  inquire," 
said  Lady  Clonbrony;  "but  this  I  know,  that  it's  a  great 
disadvantage  to  a  young  man  of  a  certain  rank  to  blush; 
for  no  people,  who  live  in  a  certain  set,  ever  do ;  and  it  is 
the  most  opposite  thing  possible  to  a  certain  air,  which,  I 
own,  I  think  Colambre  wants ;  and  now  that  he  has  done 
travelling  in  Ireland,  which  is  no  use  in  pint  of  giving  a 
gentleman  a  travelled  air,  or  anything  of  that  sort,  I  hope 
he  will  put  himself  under  my  conduct  for  next  winter's 
campaign  in  town." 

Lord  Clonbrony  looked  as  if  he  did  not  know  how  to 
look ;  and,  after  drumming  on  the  table  for  some  seconds, 
said — 

"Colambre,  I  told  you  how  it  would  be.  That's  a  fatal 
hard  condition  of  yours." 

"Not  a  hard  condition,  I  hope,  my  dear  father,"  said 
Lord  Colambre. 

"Hard  it  must  be,  since  it  can't  be  fulfilled,  or  won't  be 
fulfilled,  which  comes  to  the  same  thing,"  replied  Lord 
Clonbrony,  sighing. 

"I  am  persuaded,  sir,  that  it  will  be  fulfilled,"  said  Lord 
Colambre;  "I  am  persuaded  that,  when  my  mother  hears 
the  truth,  and  the  whole  truth — when  she  finds  that  your 
happiness,  and  the  happiness  of  her  whole  family,  depend 
upon  her  yielding  her  taste  on  one  subject " 

"Oh,  I  see  now  what  you  are  about,"  cried  Lady  Clon- 
brony; "you  are  coming  round  with  your  persuasions  and 
prefaces  to  ask  me  to  give  up  Lon'on,  and  go  back  with 
you  to  Ireland,  my  lord.  You  may  save  yourselves  the 
trouble,  all  of  you,  for  no  earthly  persuasions  shall  make 

210 


THE  ABSENTEE 

me  do  it.  I  will  never  give  up  my  taste  on  that  pint.  My 
happiness  has  a  right  to  be  as  much  considered  as  your 
father's,  Colambre,  or  anybody's;  and,  in  one  word,  I 
won't  do  it,"  cried  she,  rising  angrily  from  the  breakfast- 
table. 

"There!  did  not  I  tell  you  how  it  would  be?"  cried 
Lord  Clonbrony. 

"My  mother  has  not  heard  me,  yet,"  said  Lord  Co- 
lambre, laying  his  hand  upon  his  mother's  arm,  as  she 
attempted  to  pass;  "hear  me,  madam,  for  your  own  sake. 
You  do  not  know  what  will  happen,  this  very  day — this 
very  hour,  perhaps — if  you  do  not  listen  to  me." 

"And  what  will  happen?"  said  Lady  Clonbrony,  stop- 
ping short. 

"Ay,  indeed;  she  little  knows,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony, 
"what's  hanging  over  her  head." 

"Hanging  over  my  head?"  said  Lady  Clonbrony,  look- 
ing up;  "nonsense! — what?" 

"An  execution,  madam!  "  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"Gracious  me!  an  execution!"  said  Lady  Clonbrony, 
sitting  down  again;  "but  I  heard  you  talk  of  an  execution 
months  ago,  my  lord,  before  my  son  went  to  Ireland,  and 
it  blew  over — I  heard  no  more  of  it." 

"It  won't  blow  over  now,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony; 
"you'll  hear  more  of  it  now.  Sir  Terence  O'Fay  it  was, 
you  may  remember,  that  settled  it  then." 

"Well,  and  can't  he  settle  it  now?  Send  for  him,  since 
he  understands  these  cases ;  and  I  will  ask  him  to  dinner 
myself,  for  your  sake,  and  be  very  civil  to  him,  my  lord." 

"All  your  civility,  either  for  my  sake  or  your  own,  will 
not  signify  a  straw,  my  dear,  in  this  case — anything  that 
poor  Terry  could  do,  he'd  do,  and  welcome,  without  it ; 
but  he  can  do  nothing." 

"Nothing! — that's  very  extraordinary.  But  I'm  clear 
no  one  dare  to  bring  a  real  execution  against  us  in  earnest ; 
and  you  are  only  trying  to  frighten  me  to  your  purpose, 
like  a  child;  but  it  shan't  do." 

"Very  well,  my  dear;  you'll  see — too  late." 

A  knock  at  the  house  door. 

211 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Who  is  it? — What  is  it?"  cried  Lord  Clonbrony,  grow- 
ing very  pale. 

Lord  Colambre  changed  colour  too,  and  ran  downstairs. 
' '  Don't  let'em  let  anybody  in,  for  your  life,  Colambre ;  under 
any  pretence,"  cried  Lord  Clonbrony,  calling  from  the 
head  of  the  stairs;  then  running  to  the  window,  "By  all 
that's  good,  it's  Mordicai  himself!  and  the  people  with 
him." 

"Lean  your  head  on  me,  my  dear  aunt,"  said  Miss 
Nugent.  Lady  Clonbrony  leant  back,  trembling,  and 
ready  to  faint. 

"But  he's  walking  off  now;  the  rascal  could  not  get  in — ■ 
safe  for  the  present!  "  cried  Lord  Clonbrony,  rubbing  his 
hands,  and  repeating,  "safe  for  the  present !  " 

"Safe  for  the  present!  "  repeated  Lord  Colambre,  com- 
ing again  into  the  room.     "Safe  for  the  present  hour." 

"He  could  not  get  in,  I  suppose — oh,  I  warned  all  the 
servants  well,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony,  "and  so  did  Terry. 
Ay,  there  's  the  rascal,  Mordicai,  walking  off,  at  the  end 
of  the  street ;  I  know  his  walk  a  mile  off.  Gad !  I  can 
breathe  again.  I  am  glad  he's  gone.  But  he  will  come 
back  and  always  lie  in  wait,  and  some  time  or  other,  when 
we're  off  our  guard  (unawares),  he'll  slide  in." 

"Slide  in!  Oh,  horrid!  "  cried  Lady  Clonbrony,  sitting 
up,  and  wiping  away  the  water  which  Miss  Nugent  had 
sprinkled  on  her  face. 

"Were  you  much  alarmed?"  said  Lord  Colambre,  with 
a  voice  of  tenderness,  looking  at  his  mother  first,  but  his 
eyes  fixing  on  Miss  Nugent. 

"Shockingly!"  said  Lady  Clonbrony;  "I  never  thought 
it  would  reelly  come  to  this." 

"It  will  really  come  to  much  more,  my  dear,"  said  Lord 
Clonbrony,  "that  you  may  depend  upon,  unless  you  pre- 
vent it." 

"Lord!  what  can  I  do? — I  know  nothing  of  business; 
how  should  I,  Lord  Clonbrony;  but  I  know  there's  Co- 
lambre— I  was  always  told  that  when  he  was  of  age  every- 
thing should  be  settled;  and  why  can't  he  settle  it  when 
he's  upon  the  spot?  " 

212 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"And  upon  one  condition,  I  will,"  cried  Lord  Colambre; 
"at  what  loss  to  myself,  my  dear  mother,  I  need  not  men- 
tion." 

"Then  I  will  mention  it,"  cried  Lord  Clonbrony;  "at 
the  loss  it  will  be  of  nearly  half  the  estate  he  would  have 
had,  if  we  had  not  spent  it," 

"Loss!  Oh,  I  am  excessively  sorry  my  son's  to  be  at 
such  a  loss — it  must  not  be." 

"It  cannot  be  otherwise,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony;  "nor 
it  can't  be  this  way  either,  my  Lady  Clonbrony,  unless 
you  comply  with  his  condition,  and  consent  to  return  to 
Ireland," 

"I  cannot — I  will  not,"  replied  Lady  Clonbrony.  "Is 
this  your  condition,  Colambre? — I  take  it  exceedingly  ill 
of  you.  I  think  it  very  unkind,  and  unhandsome,  and  un- 
generous, and  undutiful  of  you,  Colambre ;  you,  my  son  !  " 
She  poured  forth  a  torrent  of  reproaches;  then  came  to 
entreaties  and  tears.  But  our  hero,  prepared  for  this,  had 
steeled  his  mind;  and  he  stood  resolved  not  to  indulge  his 
own  feelings,  or  to  yield  to  caprice  or  persuasion,  but  to 
do  that  which  he  knew  was  best  for  the  happiness  of  hund- 
reds of  tenants  who  depended  upon  them — best  for  both 
his  father  and  his  mother's  ultimate  happiness  and  respect- 
ability. 

"It's  all  in  vain,"  cried  Lord  Clonbrony;  "I  have  no 
resource  but  one,  and  I  must  condescend  now  to  go  to  him 
this  minute,  for  Mordicai  will  be  back  and  seize  all — I 
must  sign  and  leave  all  to  Garraghty." 

"Well,  sign,  sign,  my  lord,  and  settle  with  Garraghty.' — 
Colambre,  I've  heard  all  the  complaints  you  brought  over 
against  that  man.  My  lord  spent  half  the  night  telling 
them  to  me;  but  all  agents  are  bad,  I  suppose;  at  any  rate 
I  can't  help  it — sign,  sign,  my  lord;  he  has  money — yes, 
do;  go  and  settle  with  him,  my  lord." 

Lord  Colambre  and  Miss  Nugent,  at  one  and  the  same 
moment,  stopped  Lord  Clonbrony  as  he  was  quitting  the 
room,  and  then  approached  Lady  Clonbrony  with  suppli- 
cating looks ;  but  she  turned  her  head  to  the  other  side, 
and,  as  if  putting  away  their  entreaties,  made  a  repelling 

213 


THE  ABSENTEE 

motion  with  both  her  hands,  and  exclaimed,  "No,  Grace 
Nugent!— no,  Colambre — no — no,  Colambre!  I'll  never 
hear  of  leaving  Lon'on — there's  no  living  out  of  Lon'on — 
I  can't,  I  won't  live  out  of  Lon'on,  I  say." 

Her  son  saw  that  the  Londonomania  was  now  stronger 
than  ever  upon  her,  but  resolved  to  make  one  desperate 
appeal  to  her  natural  feelings,  which,  though  smothered, 
he  could  not  believe  were  wholly  extinguished;  he  caught 
her^  repelling  hands,  and  pressing  them  with  respectful 
tenderness  to  his  lips — 

' '  Oh,  my  dear  mother,  you  once  loved  your  son, ' '  said  he ; 
"loved  him  better  than  anything  in  this  world  ;  if  one  spark 
of  affection  for  him  remains,  hear  him  now,  and  forgive  him, 
if  he  pass  the  bounds — bounds  he  never  passed  before — of 
filial  duty.  Mother,  in  compliance  with  your  wishes  my 
father  left  Ireland — left  his  home,  his  duties,  his  friends, 
his  natural  connexions,  and  for  many  years  he  has  lived  in 
England,  and  you  have  spent  many  seasons  in  London." 

"Yes,  in  the  very  best  company — in  the  very  first 
circles,"  said  Lady  Clonbrony ;  "cold  as  the  high-bred 
English  are  said  to  be  in  general  to  strangers." 

' '  Yes, ' '  replied  Lord  Colambre ;  ' '  the  very  best  company 
(if  you  mean  the  most  fashionable)  have  accepted  of  our 
entertainments.  We  have  forced  our  way  into  their  frozen 
circles;  we  have  been  permitted  to  breathe  in  these  ele- 
vated regions  of  fashion ;  we  have  it  to  say,  that  the  duke 
of  tJiis,  and  my  lady  that,  are  of  our  acquaintance.  We 
may  say  more ;  we  may  boast  that  we  have  vied  with  those 
whom  we  could  never  equal.  And  at  what  expense  have 
we  done  all  this?  For  a  single  season,  the  last  winter  (I 
will  go  no  farther),  at  the  expense  of  a  great  part  of  your 
timber,  the  growth  of  a  century — swallowed  in  the  enter- 
tainments of  one  winter  in  London !  Our  hills  to  be  bare 
for  another  half  century  to  come!  But  let  the  trees  go;  I 
think  more  of  your  tenants — of  those  left  under  the  tyranny 
of  a  bad  agent,  at  the  expense  of  every  comfort,  every 
hope  they  enjoyed ! — tenants,  who  were  thriving  and  pro- 
sperous; who  used  to  smile  upon  you,  and  to  bless  you 
both!     In  one  cottage,  I  have  seen " 

214 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Here  Lord  Clonbrony,  unable  to  restrain  his  emotion, 
hurried  out  of  the  room. 

"Then  I  am  sure  it  is  not  my  fault,"  said  Lady  Clon- 
brony; "for  I  brought  my  lord  a  large  fortune;  and  I  am 
confident  I  have  not,  after  all,  spent  more  any  season,  in 
the  best  company,  than  he  has  among  a  set  of  low  people, 
in  his  muddling,  discreditable  way." 

"And  how  has  he  been  reduced  to  this? "  said  Lord  Co- 
lambre.  "Did  he  not  formerly  live  with  gentlemen,  his 
equals,  in  his  own  country;  his  contemporaries?  Men  of 
the  first  station  and  character,  whom  I  met  in  Dublin, 
spoke  of  him  in  a  manner  that  gratified  the  heart  of  his 
son ;  he  was  respectable  and  respected  at  his  own  home ; 
but  when  he  was  forced  away  from  that  home,  deprived 
of  his  objects,  his  occupations  induced  him  to  live  in  Lon- 
don, or  at  watering-places,  where  he  could  find  no  em- 
ployments that  were  suitable  to  him — set  down,  late  in 
life,  in  the  midst  of  strangers,  to  him  cold  and  reserved — 
himself  too  proud  to  bend  to  those  who  disdained  him  as 
an  Irishman — is  he  not  more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed  for 
— yes,  I,  his  son,  must  say  the  word — the  degradation 
which  has  ensued?  And  do  not  the  feelings,  which  have 
this  moment  forced  him  to  leave  the  room,  show  that  he 
is  capable? — Oh,  mother!  "  cried  Lord  Colambre,  throwing 
himself  at  Lady  Clonbrony 's  feet,  "restore  my  father  to 
himself !  Should  such  feelings  be  wasted  ? — No ;  give  them 
again  to  expand  in  benevolent,  in  kind,  useful  actions; 
give  him  again  to  his  tenantry,  his  duties,  his  country,  his 
home;  return  to  that  home  yourself,  dear  mother!  leave 
all  the  nonsense  of  high  life — scorn  the  impertinence  of 
these  dictators  of  fashion,  by  whom,  in  return  for  all  the 
pains  we  take  to  imitate,  to  court  them — in  return  for  the 
sacrifice  of  health,  fortune,  peace  of  mind,  they  bestow 
sarcasm,  contempt,  ridicule,  and  mimicry!" 

"Oh,  Colambre!  Colambre!  mimicry — I'll  never  believe 
it." 

"Believe  me — believe  me,  mother;  for  I  speak  of  what 
I  know.  Scorn  them — quit  them !  Return  to  an  un- 
sophisticated people — to   poor,    but  grateful  hearts,   still 

215 


THE  ABSENTEE 

warm  with  the  remembrance  of  your  kindness,  still  bless- 
ing you  for  favours  long  since  conferred,  ever  praying  to 
sec  you  once  more.  Believe  me,  for  I  speak  of  what  I 
]^now — your  son  has  heard  these  prayers,  has  felt  these 
blessings.  Here!  at  my  heart  felt,  and  still  feel  them, 
when  I  was  not  known  to  be  your  son,  in  the  cottage  of 
the  widow  O'Neill." 

"Oh,  did  you  see  the  widow  O'Neill?  and  does  she  re- 
member me?  "  said  Lady  Clonbrony. 

"Remember  you!  and  you,  Miss  Nugent!  I  have  slept 
in  the  bed — I  would  tell  you  more,  but  I  cannot." 

"Well!  I  never  should  have  thought  they  would  have 
remembered  me  so  long! — poor  people!  "  said  Lady  Clon- 
brony. "I  thought  all  in  Ireland  must  have  forgotten  me, 
it  is  now  so  long  since  I  was  at  home." 

"You  are  not  forgotten  in  Ireland  by  any  rank,  I  can 
answer  for  that.  Return  home,  my  dearest  mother — let 
me  see  you  once  more  among  your  natural  friends,  beloved, 
respected,  happy ! " 

"Oh,  return!  let  us  return  home!"  cried  Miss  Nugent, 
with  a  voice  of  great  emotion.  "Return,  let  us  return 
home!  My  beloved  aunt,  speak  to  us! — say  that  you 
grant  our  request!  " 

She  kneeled  beside  Lord  Colambre,  as  she  spoke. 

"Is  it  possible  to  resist  that  voice^ — that  look?  "  thought 
Lord  Colambre. 

"If  anybody  knew,"  said  Lady  Clonbrony,  "if  anybody 
could  conceive,  how  I  detest  the  sight,  the  thoughts  of 
that  old  yellow  damask  furniture,  in  the  drawing-room  at 
Clonbrony  Castle " 

"Good  heavens!  "  cried  Lord  Colambre,  starting  up,  and 
looking  at  his  mother  in  stupefied  astonishment;  "is  tJiat 
what  you  are  thinking  of,  ma'am?  " 

"The  yellow  damask  furniture!  "  said  her  niece,  smiling. 
"Oh,  if  that's  all,  that  shall  never  offend  your  eyes  again. 
Aunt,  my  painted  velvet  chairs  are  finished ;  and  trust  the 
furnishing  that  room  to  me.  The  legacy  lately  left  me 
cannot  be  better  applied — you  shall  see  how  beautifully  it 
will  be  furnished." 

2l6 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Oh,  if  I  had  money,  I  should  like  to  do  it  myself;  but 
it  would  take  an  immensity  to  new  furnish  Clonbrony 
Castle  properly." 

"The  furniture  in  this  house "  said  Miss  Nugent, 

looking  round. 

"Would  do  a  great  deal  towards  it,  I  declare,"  cried 
Lady  Clonbrony;  "that  never  struck  me  before,  Grace,  I 
protest — and  what  would  not  suit  one  might  sell  or  ex- 
change here — and  it  would  be  a  great  amusement  to  me — 
and  I  should  like  to  set  the  fashion  of  something  better  in 
that  country.  And  I  declare,  now,  I  should  like  to  see 
those  poor  people,  and  that  widow  O'Neill.  I  do  assure 
you,  I  think  I  was  happier  at  home;  only,  that  one  gets, 
I  don't  know  how,  a  notion  one's  nobody  out  of  Lon'on. 
But,  after  all,  there's  many  drawbacks  in  Lon'on — and 
many  people  are  very  impertinent,  LU  allow  —  and  if 
there's  a  woman  in  the  world  I  hate,  it  is  Mrs.  Dareville — 
and,  if  I  was  leaving  Lon'on,  I  should  not  regret  Lady 
Langdale  neither — and  Lady  St.  James  is  as  cold  as  a 
stone.  Colambre  may  well  say  frozen  circles — these  sort 
of  people  are  really  very  cold,  and  have,  I  do  believe,  no 
hearts.      I  don't  verily  think  there  is  one  of  them  would 

regret  me  more Hey!  let  me  see,  Dublin — the  winter 

— Merrion    Square — new    furnished — and    the   summer — 
Clonbrony  Castle!  " 

Lord  Colambre  and. Miss  Nugent  waited  in  silence  till 
her  mind  should  have  worked  itself  clear.  One  great  ob- 
stacle had  been  removed  ;  and  now  that  the  yellow  damask 
had  been  taken  out  of  her  imagination,  they  no  longer 
despaired. 

Lord  Clonbrony  put  his  head  into  the  room. 

"What  hopes? — any?  if  not,  let  me  go." 

He  saw  the  doubting  expression  of  Lady  Clonbrony's 
countenance — hope  in  the  face' of  his  son  and  niece. 

"My  dear,  dear  Lady  Clonbrony,  make  us  all  happy  by 
one  word,"  said  he,  kissing  her. 

"You  never  kissed  me  so  since  we  left  Ireland  before," 
said  Lady  Clonbrony.  "Well,  since  it  must  be  so,  let  us 
go,"  said  she. 

217 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Did  I  ever  see  such  joy!  "  said  Lord  Clonbrony,  clasp- 
ing his  hands;  "I  never  expected  such  joy  in  my  life! — I 
must  go  and  tell  poor  Terry!  "  and  off  he  ran. 

"And  now,  since  we  are  to  go,"  said  Lady  Clonbrony, 
"pray  let  us  go  immediately,  before  the  thing  gets  wind, 
else  I  shall  have  Mrs,  Dareville,  and  Lady  Langdale,  and 
Lady  St.  James,  and  all  the  world,  coming  to  condole  with 
me,  just  to  satisfy  their  own  curiosity;  and  then  Miss 
Pratt,  who  hears  everything  that  everybody  says,  and 
more  than  they  say,  will  come  and  tell  me  how  it  is  re- 
ported everywhere  that  we  are  ruined.  Oh  !  I  never  could 
bear  to  stay  and  hear  all  this.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do— 
you  are  to  be  of  age  the  day  after  to-morrow,  Colambre — 
very  well,  there  are  some  papers  for  me  to  sign — I  must 
stay  to  put  my  name  to  them,  and  that  done,  that  minute 
I'll  leave  you  and  Lord  Clonbrony  to  settle  all  the  rest; 
and  I'll  get  into  my  carriage  with  Grace,  and  go  down  to 
Buxton  again ;  where  you  can  come  for  me,  and  take  me 
up,  when  you're  all  ready  to  go  to  Ireland — and  we  shall 
be  so  far  on  our  way.  Colambre,  what  do  you  say  to 
this?" 

"That — if  you  like  it,  madam,"  said  he,  giving  one  hasty 
glance  at  Miss  Nugent,  and  withdrawing  his  eyes,  "it  is  the 
best  possible  arrangement." 

"So,"  thought  Grace,  "that  is  the  best  possible  arrange- 
ment which  takes  us  away." 

"If  I  like  it!"  said  Lady  Clonorony;  "to  be  sure  I  do, 
or  I  should  not  propose  it.  What  is  Colambre  thinking 
of?  I  know,  Grace,  at  all  events,  what  you  and  I  must 
think  of — of  having  the  furniture  packed  up,  and  settling 
what's  to  go,  and  what's  to  be  exchanged,  and  all  that. 
Now,  my  dear,  go  and  write  a  note  directly  to  Mr.  Soho, 
and  bid  him  come  himself,  immediately ;  and  we'll  go  and 
make  out  a  catalogue  this  instant  of  what  furniture  I  will 
have  packed." 

So,  with  her  head  full  of  furniture.  Lady  Clonbrony  re- 
tired. "I  go  to  my  business,  Colambre;  and  I  leave  you 
to  settle  yours  in  peace." 

In   peace! — Never  was  our  hero's  mind   less  at  peace 

2l8 


THE  ABSENTEE 

than  at  this  moment.  The  more  his  heart  felt  that  it  was 
painful,  the  more  his  reason  told  him  it  was  necessary  that 
he  should  part  from  Grace  Nugent.  To  his  union  with 
her  there  was  an  obstacle,  which  his  prudence  told  him 
ought  to  be  insurmountable ;  yet  he  felt  that,  during  the 
few  days  he  had  been  with  her,  the  few  hours  he  had  been 
near  her,  he  had,  with  his  utmost  power  over  himself, 
scarcely  been  master  of  his  passion,  or  capable  of  conceal- 
ing it  from  its  object.  It  could  not  have  been  done  but 
for  her  perfect  simplicity  and  innocence.  But  how  could 
this  be  supposed  on  his  part?  How  could  he  venture  to 
live  with  this  charming  girl?  How  could  he  settle  at 
home?     What  resource? 

His  mind  turned  towards  the  army;  he  thought  that 
abroad,  and  in  active  life,  he  should  lose  all  the  painful 
recollections,  and  drive  from  his  heart  all  the  resentments, 
which  could  now  be  only  a  source  of  unavailing  regret. 
But  his  mother — his  mother,  who  had  now  yielded  her  own 
taste  to  his  entreaties,  for  the  good  of  her  family — she  ex- 
pected him  to  return  and  live  with  her  in  Ireland.  Though 
not  actually  promised  or  specified,  he  knew  that  she  took 
it  for  granted ;  that  it  was  upon  this  hope,  this  faith,  she 
consented ;  he  knew  that  she  would  be  shocked  at  the  bare 
idea  of  his  going  into  the  army.  There  was  one  chance — 
our  hero  tried,  at  this  moment,  to  think  it  the  best  possible 
chance — that  Miss  Nugent  might  marry  Mr.  Salisbury,  and 
settle  in  England.  On  this  idea  he  relied  as  the  only  means 
of  extricating  him  from  difficulties. 

It  was  necessary  to  turn  his  thoughts  immediately  to 
business,  to  execute  his  promises  to  his  father.  Two  great 
objects  were  now  to  be  accomplished — the  payment  of  his 
father's  debts,  and  the  settlement  of  the  Irish  agent's  ac- 
counts; and,  in  transacting  this  complicated  business,  he 
derived  considerable  assistance  from  Sir  Terence  O'Fay, 
and  from  Sir  Arthur  Berryl's  solicitor,  Mr.  Edwards. 
Whilst  acting  for  Sir  Arthur,  on  a  former  occasion,  Lord 
Colambre  had  gained  the  entire  confidence  of  this  solicitor, 
who  was  a  man  of  the  first  eminence.  Mr.  Edwards  took 
the  papers  and  Lord  Clonbrony's  title-deeds  home  with 

219 


THE  ABSENTEE 

him,  saying  that  he  would  give  an  answer  the  next  morn- 
iri"'.  He  then  waited  upon  Lord  Colambre,  and  infornned 
him,  that  he  had  just  received  a  letter  from  Sir  Arthur 
Berryl,  who,  with  the  consent  and  desire  of  his  lady,  re- 
quested that  whatever  money  might  be  required  by  Lord 
Clonbrony  should  be  immediately  supplied  on  their  ac- 
count, without  waiting  till  Lord  Colambre  should  be  of 
age,  as  the  ready  money  might  be  of  some  convenience  to 
him  in  accelerating  the  journey  to  Ireland,  which  Sir  Arthur 
and  Lady  Berryl  knew  was  his  lordship's  object.  Sir 
Terence  O'Fay  now  supplied  Mr.  Edwards  with  accurate 
information  as  to  the  demands  that  were  made  upon  Lord 
Clonbrony,  and  of  the  respective  characters  of  the  creditors. 
Mr.  Edwards  undertook  to  settle  with  the  fair  claimants; 
Sir  Terence  with  the  rogues ;  so  that  by  the  advancement 
of  ready  money  from  the  Berryls,  and  by  the  detection  of 
false  and  exaggerated  charges,  which  Sir  Terence  made 
among  the  inferior  class,  the  debts  were  reduced  nearly  to 
one  half  of  their  former  amount.  Mordicai,  who  had  been 
foiled  in  his  vile  attempt  to  become  sole  creditor,  had, 
however,  a  demand  of  more  than  seven  thousand  pounds 
upon  Lord  Clonbrony,  which  he  had  raised  to  this  enorm- 
ous sum  in  six  or  seven  years,  by  means  well  known  to 
himself.  He  stood  the  foremost  in  the  list,  not  from  the 
greatness  of  the  sum,  but  from  the  danger  of  his  adding  to 
it  the  expenses  of  law.  Sir  Terence  undertook  to  pay  the 
whole  with  five  thousand  pounds.  Lord  Clonbrony  thought 
it  impossible;  the  solicitor  thought  it  improvident,  because 
he  kncM^  that  upon  a  trial  a  much  greater  abatement  would 
be  allowed ;  but  Lord  Colambre  was  determined,  from 
the  present  embarrassments  of  his  own  situation,  to  leave 
nothing  undone  that  could  be  accomplished  immediately. 

Sir  Terence,  pleased  with  his  commission,  immediately 
went  to  Mordicai. 

"Well,  Sir  Terence,"  said  Mordicai,  "I  hope  you  are 
come  to  pay  me  my  hundred  guineas;  for  Miss  Broadhurst 
is  married !  " 

"Well,  Mr.  Mordicai,  what  then?  The  ides  of  March 
are  come,  but  not  gone"!     Stay,  if  you  plase.  Mister  Mor- 

220 


THE  ABSENTEE 

dicai,  till  Lady-day,  when  it  becomes  due;  in  the  mean- 
time, I  have  a  handful,  or  rather  an  armful,  of  bank-notes 
for  you,  from  my  Lord  Colambre." 

"Humph!  "  said  Mordicai;  "how's  that?  he'll  not  be  of 
age  these  three  days." 

"Don't  matter  for  that;  he  has  sent  me  to  look  over 
your  account,  and  to  hope  that  you  will  make  some  small 
ABATEMENT  in  the  total." 

"Harkee,  Sir  Terence— you  think  yourself  very  clever 
in  things  of  this  sort,  but  you've  mistaken  your  man;  I 
have  an  execution  for  the  whole,  and  Lll  be  d — d  if  all 
your  cunning  shall  MAKE  me  take  up  with  part !  " 

"Be  asy,  Mister  Mordicai!— you  shan't  make  me  break 
your  bones,  nor  make  me  drop  one  actionable  word  against 
your  high  character;  for  I  know  your  clerk  there,  with  that 
long  goose-quill  behind  his  ear,  would  be  ready  evidence 
again'  me.  But  I  beg  to  know,  in  one  word,  whether  you 
will  take  five  thousand  down,  and  GIVE  Lord  Clonbrony  a 
discharge? " 

"No,  Mr.  Terence!  nor  six  thousand  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-nine  pounds.  My  demand  is  £7130,  odd  shillings: 
if  you  have  that  money,  pay  it;  if  not,  I  know  how  to  get 
it,  and  along  with  it  complete  revenge  for  all  the  insults  I 
have  received  from  that  greenhorn,  his  son." 

"Paddy  Brady!  "  cried  Sir  Terence,  "do  you  hear  that? 
Remember  that  word,  revenge ! — Mind,  I  call  you  to 
witness !  " 

"What,  sir,  will  you  raise  a  rebellion  among  my  work- 
men? 

"No,  Mr.  Mordicai,  no  rebellion;  and  I  hope  you  won't 
cut  the  boy's  ears  off  for  listening  to  a  little  of  the  brogue 
— So  listen,  my  good  lad.  Now,  Mr.  Mordicai,  I  offer 
you  here,  before  little  goose-quill,  £,^QOO  ready  penny — 
take  it,  or  leave  it ;  take  your  money,  and  leave  your  re- 
venge; or,  take  your  revenge,  and  lose  your  money." 

"Sir  Terence,  I  value  neither  your  threats  nor  your 
cunning.     Good  morning  to  you." 

"Good  morning  to  you,  Mr,  Mordicai — but  not  kindly! 
Mr.  Edwards,  the  solicitor,  has  been  at  the  office  to  take 

221 


THE  ABSENTEE 

off  the  execution  ;  so  now  you  may  have  law  to  your  heart's 
content !  And  it  was  only  to  plase  the  young  lord  that  the 
ou Id  one  consented  to  my  carrying  this  bundle  to  you," — 
showing  the  bank-notes. 

"Mr.  Edwards  employed!"  cried  Mordicai.  "Why, 
how  the  devil  did  Lord  Clonbrony  get  into  such  hands  as 
his?  The  execution  taken  off!  Well,  sir,  go  to  law — I  am 
ready  for  you ;  Jack  Latitat  IS  A  MATCH  for  your  sober 
solicitor." 

"Good  morning  again  to  you,  Mr.  Mordicai;  we're 
fairly  out  of  your  clutches,  and  we  have  enough  to  do  with 
our  money." 

"Well,    Sir   Terence,    I    must  allow   you    have   a  very 

wheedling  way Here,   Mr.  Thompson,   make  out  a 

receipt  for  Lord  Clonbrony :  I  never  go  to  law  with  an  old 
customer,  if  I  can  help  it." 

This  business  settled,  Mr.  Soho  was  next  to  be  dealt 
with. 

He  came  at  Lady  Clonbrony 's  summons;  and  was  tak- 
ing directions,  with  the  utmost  sang  froid,  for  packing  up 
and  sending  off  the  very  furniture  for  which  he  was  not 
paid. 

Lord  Colambre  called  him  into  his  father's  study;  and, 
producing  his  bill,  he  began  to  point  out  various  articles 
which  were  charged  at  prices  that  were  obviously  extrava- 
gant. 

"Why,  really,  my  lord,  they  are  abundantly  extrava- 
gant ;  if  I  charged  vulgar  prices,  I  should  be  only  a  vulgar 
tradesman.  I,  however,  am  not  a  broker,  nor  a  Jew.  Of 
the  article  superintendence,  which  is  only  ^500,  I  cannot 
abate  a  doit ;  on  the  rest  of  the  bill,  if  you  mean  to  offer 
ready,  I  mean,  without  any  negotiation,  to  abate  thirty 
per  cent;  and  I  hope  that  is  a  fair  and  gentlemanly  offer." 
Mr.  Soho,  there  is  your  money  !  " 

"My  Lord  Colambre!  I  would  give  the  contents  of 
three  such  bills  to  be  sure  of  such  noblemanly  conduct  as 
yours.  Lady  Clonbrony's  furniture  shall  be  safely  packed, 
without  costing  her  a  farthing." 

With  the  help  of  Mr.  Edwards,  the  solicitor,  every  other 

222 


THE  ABSENTEE 

claim  was  soon  settled ;  and  Lord  Clonbrony,  for  the  first 
time  since  he  left  Ireland,  found  himself  out  of  debt,  and 
out  of  danger. 

Old  Nick's  account  could  not  be  settled  in  London. 
Lord  Colambre  had  detected  numerous  false  charges,  and 
sundry  impositions;  the  land,  which  had  been  purposely 
let  to  run  wild,  so  far  from  yielding  any  rent,  was  made  a 
source  of  constant  expense,  as  remaining  still  unset:  this 
was  a  large  tract,  for  which  St.  Dennis  had  at  length  offered 
a  small  rent. 

Upon  a  fair  calculation  of  the  profits  of  the  ground, 
and  from  other  items  in  the  account,  Nicholas  Garraghty, 
Esq.,  appeared  at  last  to  be,  not  the  creditor,  but  the 
debtor  to  Lord  Clonbrony.  He  was  dismissed  with  dis- 
grace, which  perhaps  he  might  not  have  felt,  if  it  had  not 
been  accompanied  by  pecuniary  loss,  and  followed  by  the 
fear  of  losing  his  other  agencies,  and  by  the  dread  of  im- 
mediate bankruptcy. 

Mr.  Burke  was  appointed  agent  in  his  stead  to  the  Clon- 
brony as  well  as  the  Colambre  estate.  His  appointment 
was  announced  to  him  by  the  following  letter: 

To  Mrs.  Burke,  at  Colambre. 

Dear  Madam, 

The  traveller  whom  you  so  hospitably  received  some  months 
ago  was  Lord  Colambre — he  now  writes  to  you  in  his  proper 
person.  He  promised  you  that  he  would,  as  far  as  it  might  be 
in  his  power,  do  justice  to  Mr.  Burke's  conduct  and  character, 
by  representing  what  he  had  done  for  Lord  Clonbrony  in  the 
town  of  Colambre,  and  in  the  whole  management  of  the  tenantry 
and  property  under  his  care. 

Happily  for  my  father,  my  dear  madam,  he  is  now  as  fully 
convinced  as  you  could  wish  him  to  be  of  Mr.  Burke's  merits; 
and  he  begs  me  to  express  his  sense  of  the  obligations  he  is 
under  to  him  and  to  you.  He  entreats  that  you  will  pardon  the 
impropriety  of  a  letter,  which,  as  I  assured  you  the  moment  I 
saw  it,  he  never  wrote  or  read.  This  will,  he  says,  cure  him, 
for  life,  of  putting  his  signature  to  any  paper  without  reading  it. 

He  hopes  that  you  will  forget  that  such  a  letter  was  ever 

223 


THE  ABSENTEE 

received,  and  that  you  will  use  your  influence  with  Mr.  Burke  to 
induce  him  to  continue  to  our  family  his  regard  and  valuable 
services.  Lord  Clonbrony  encloses  a  power  of  attorney,  en- 
abling Mr.  Burke  to  act  in  future  for  him,  if  Mr.  Burke  will  do 
him  that  favour,  in  managing  the  Clonbrony  as  well  as  the 
Colambre  estate. 

Lord  Clonbrony  will  be  in  Ireland  in  the  course  of  next 
month,  and  intends  to  have  the  pleasure  of  soon  paying  his  re- 
spects in  person  to  Mr.  Burke,  at  Colambre. — I  am,  dear 
madam,  your  obliged  guest,  and  faithful  servant, 

Colambre. 

Grosvenor  Square,  London. 

Lord  Colambre  was  so  continually  occupied  with  business 
during  the  two  days  previous  to  his  coming  of  age,  every 
morning  at  his  solicitor's  chambers,  every  evening  in  his 
father's  study,  that  Miss  Nugent  never  saw  him  but  at 
breakfast  or  dinner;  and,  though  she  watched  for  it  most 
anxiously,  never  could  find  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
him  alone,  or  of  asking  an  explanation  of  the  change  and 
inconsistencies  of  his  manner.  At  last,  she  began  to  think 
that,  in  the  midst  of  so  much  business  of  importance,  by 
which  he  seemed  harassed,  she  should  do  wrong  to  torment 
him,  by  speaking  of  any  small  disquietude  that  concerned 
only  herself.  She  determined  to  suppress  her  doubts,  to 
keep  her  feelings  to  herself,  and  to  endeavour,  by  constant 
kindness,  to  regain  that  place  in  his  affections  which  she 
imagined  that  she  had  lost.  "Everything  will  go  right 
again,"  thought  she,  "and  we  shall  all  be  happy,  when  he 
returns  with  us  to  Ireland — to  that  dear  home  which  he 
loves  as  well  as  I  do !  " 

The  day  Lord  Colambre  was  of  age,  the  first  thing  he 
did  was  to  sign  a  bond  for  five  thousand  pounds.  Miss 
Nugent's  fortune,  which  had  been  lent  to  his  father,  who 
was  her  guardian. 

"This,  sir,  I  believe,"  said  he,  giving  it  to  his  father  as 
soon  as  signed — "this,  I  believe,  is  the  first  debt  you  would 
wish  to  have  secured." 

"Well  thought  of,  my  dear  boy! — God  bless  you! — that 
has  weighed  more  upon  my  conscience  and  heart  than  all 

224 


THE  ABSENTEE 

the  rest,  though  I  never  said  anything  about  it.  I  used, 
whenever  I  met  Mr.  Salisbury,  to  wish  myself  fairly  down 
at  the  centre  of  the  earth ;  not  that  he  ever  thought  of 
fortune,  I'm  sure;  for  he  often  told  me,  and  I  believed 
him,  he  would  rather  have  Miss  Nugent  without  a  penny, 
if  he  could  get  her,  than  the  first  fortune  in  the  empire. 
But  I'm  glad  she  will  not  go  to  him  penniless,  for  all  that; 
and  by  my  fault,  especially.  There,  there's  my  name  to 
it — do  witness  it,  Terry.  But,  Colambre,  you  must  give 
it  to  her — you  must  take  it  to  Grace." 

"Excuse  me,  sir;  it  is  no  gift  of  mine — it  is  a  debt  of 
yours.  I  beg  you  will  take  the  bond  to  her  yourself,  my 
dear  father." 

"My  dear  son,  you  must  not  always  have  your  own  way, 
and  hide  everything  good  you  do,  or  give  me  the  honour 
of  it — I  won't  be  the  jay  in  borrowed  feathers.  I  have 
borrowed  enough  in  my  life,  and  I've  done  with  borrow- 
ing now,  thanks  to  you,  Colambre — so  come  along  with 
me;  for  I'll  be  hanged  if  ever  I  give  this  joint  bond  to 
Miss  Nugent,  without  you  along  with  me.  Leave  Lady 
Clonbrony  here  to  sign  these  papers.  Terry  will  witness 
them  properly,  and  you  come  along  with  me." 

"And  pray,  my  lord,"  said  her  ladyship,  "order  the 
carriage  to  the  door ;  for,  as  soon  as  you  have  my  signature, 
I  hope  you'll  let  me  off  to  Buxton." 

"Oh,  certainly  —  the  carriage  is  ordered  —  everything 
ready,  my  dear." 

"And  pray  tell  Grace  to  be  ready,"  added  Lady  Clon- 
brony. 

"That's  not  necessary;  for  she  is  always  ready,"  said 
Lord  Clonbrony.  "Come,  Colambre,"  added  he,  taking 
his  son  under  the  arm,  and  carrying  him  up  to  Miss 
Nugent's  dressing-room. 

They  knocked,  and  were  admitted. 

"Ready!"  said  Lord  Clonbrony;  "ay,  always  ready — 
so  I  said.  Here's  Colambre,  my  darling,"  continued  he, 
"has  secured  your  fortune  to  you  to  my  heart's  content; 
but  he  would  not  condescend  to  come  up  to  tell  you  so, 
till  I  made  him.  Here's  the  bond;  put  your  hand  to  it, 
15  225 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Colambre ;  you  were  ready  enough  to  do  that  when  it  cost 
you  something;  and  now,  all  I  have  to  ask  of  you  is,  to 
persuade  her  to  marry  out  of  hand,  that  I  may  see  her 
happy  before  I  die.  Now  my  heart's  at  ease !  I  can  meet 
Mr.  Salisbury  with  a  safe  conscience.  One  kiss,  my  little 
Grace.  If  anybody  can  persuade  you,  I'm  sure  it's  that 
man  that's  now  leaning  against  the  mantelpiece.  It's  Co- 
lambre's  will,  or  your  heart's  not  made  like  mine — so  I 
leave  you." 

And  out  of  the  room  walked  he,  leaving  his  poor  son  in 
as  awkward,  embarrassing,  and  painful  a  situation,  as  could 
well  be  conceived.  Half  a  dozen  indistinct  ideas  crossed 
his  mind;  quick  conflicting  feelings  made  his  heart  beat 
and  stop.  And  how  it  would  have  ended,  if  he  had  been 
left  to  himself,  whether  he  would  have  stood  or  fallen,  have 
spoken  or  have  continued  silent,  can  never  now  be  known, 
for  all  was  decided  without  the  action  of  his  will.  He  was 
awakened  from  his  trance  by  these  simple  words  from  Miss 
Nugent — 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  cousin  Colambre — more 
obliged  to  you  for  your  kindness  in  thinking  of  me  first, 
in  the  midst  of  all  your  other  business,  than  by  your  secur- 
ing my  fortune.  Friendship  —  and  your  friendship  —  is 
worth  more  to  me  than  fortune.  May  I  believe  that  is 
secured? " 

"Believe  it!     Oh,  Grace,  can  you  doubt  it?" 

"I  will  not;  it  would  make  me  too  unhappy.  I  will 
not." 

"You  need  not." 

"That  is  enough — I  am  satisfied — I  ask  no  further  ex- 
planation. You  are  truth  itself — one  word  from  you  is 
security  sufficient.  We  are  friends  for  life,"  said  she, 
taking  his  hand  between  both  of  hers;  "are  not  we? " 

"We  are — and  therefore  sit  down,  cousin  Grace,  and  let 
me  claim  the  privilege  of  friendship,  and  speak  to  you  of 
him  who  aspires  to  be  more  than  your  friend  for  life, 
Mr. " 

"Mr.  Salisbury!"  said  Miss  Nugent;  "I  saw  him  yes- 
terday.    We  had  a  very  long  conversation;  I  believe  he 

226 


THE  ABSENTEE 

understands  my  sentiments  perfectly,  and  that  he  no  longer 
thinks  of  being  more  to  me  than  a  friend  for  life." 

"You  have  refused  him!  " 

"Yes.  I  have  a  high  opinion  of  Mr,  Salisbury's  under- 
standing, a  great  esteem  for  his  character;  I  like  his 
manners  and  conversation ;  but  I  do  not  love  him,  and 
therefore,  you  know,  I  could  not  marry  him." 

"But,  my  dear  Miss  Nugent,  with  a  high  opinion,  a 
great  esteem,  and  liking  his  manners  and  conversation,  in 
such  a  well-regulated  mind  as  yours,  can  there  be  a  better 
foundation  for  love?" 

"It  is  an  excellent  foundation,"  said  she;  "but  I  never 
went  any  farther  than  the  foundation ;  and,  indeed,  I 
never  wished  to  proceed  any  farther." 

Lord  Colambre  scarcely  dared  to  ask  why;  but,  after 
some  pause,  he  said — 

"I  don't  wish  to  intrude  upon  your  confidence." 

"You  cannot  intrude  upon  my  confidence;  I  am  ready 
to  give  it  to  you  entirely,  frankly  ;  I  hesitated  only  because 
another  person  was  concerned.  Do  you  remember,  at  my 
aunt's  gala,  a  lady  who  danced  with  Mr.  Salisbury? " 

"Not  in  the  least." 

"A  lady  with  whom  you  and  Mr.  Salisbury  were  talking, 
just  before  supper,  in  the  Turkish  tent." 

"Not  in  the  least." 

"As  we  went  down  to  supper,  you  told  me  you  had  had 
a  delightful  conversation  with  her — that  you  thought  her  a 
charming  woman." 

"A  charming  woman  ! — I  have  not  the  slightest  recollec- 
tion of  her." 

"And  you  told  me  that  she  and  Mr.  Salisbury  had  been 
praising  me  a  V envie  Vune  et  V autre.'' 

Oh,  I  recollect  her  now  perfectly, "  said  Lord  Colambre ; 
"but  what  of  her?  " 

"She  is  the  woman  who,  I  hope,  will  be  Mrs.  Salis- 
bury. Ever  since  I  have  been  acquainted  with  them 
both,  I  have  seen  that  they  were  suited  to  each  other; 
and  fancy,  indeed  I  am  almost  sure,  that  she  could  love 
him,  tenderly  love  him — and,  I  know,  I  could  not.     But 

227 


THE  ABSENTEE 

my  own  sentiments,  you  may  be  sure,  are  all  I  ever  told 
Mr.  Salisbury." 

"But  of  your  own  sentiments  you  may  not  be  sure," 
said  Lord  Colambre;  "and  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should 
give  him  up  from  false  generosity." 

"Generosity?"  interrupted  Miss  Nugent;  "you  totally 
misunderstand  me;  there  is  no  generosity,  nothing  for  me 
to  give  up  in  the  case.  I  did  not  refuse  Mr.  Salisbury 
from  generosity,  but  because  I  did  not  love  him.  Perhaps 
my  seeing  this  at  first  prevented  me  from  thinking  of  him 
as  a  lover;  but,  from  whatever  cause,  I  certainly  never 
felt  love  for  Mr.  Salisbury,  nor  any  of  that  pity  which  is 
said  to  lead  to  love;  perhaps,"  added  she,  smiling,  "be- 
cause I  was  aware  that  he  would  be  so  much  better  off 
after  I  refused  him — so  much  happier  with  one  suited  to 
him  in  age,  talents,  fortune,  and  love — 'What  bliss,  did  he 
but  know  his  bliss,'  were  his  !  " 

"Did  he  but  know  his  bliss,"  repeated  Lord  Colambre; 
"but  is  not  he  the  best  judge  of  his  own  bliss?  " 

"And  am  not  I  the  best  judge  of  mine?  "  said  Miss  Nu- 
gent;  "I  go  no  farther." 

"You  are;  and  I  have  no  right  to  go  farther.  Yet,  this 
much  permit  me  to  say,  my  dear  Grace,  that  it  would  give 
me  sincere  pleasure,  that  is,  real  satisfaction,  to  see  you 
happily — established. ' ' 

"Thank  you,  my  dear  Lord  Colambre;  but  you  spoke 
that  like  a  man  of  seventy  at  least,  with  the  most  solemn 
gravity  of  demeanour." 

"I  meant  to  be  serious,  not  solemn,"  said  Lord  Colam- 
bre, endeavouring  to  change  his  tone. 

"There  now,"  said  she,  in  a  playful  tone,  "you  have 
seriously  accomplished  the  task  my  good  uncle  set  you ;  so 
I  will  report  well  of  you  to  him,  and  certify  that  you  did 
all  that  in  you  lay  to  exhort  me  to  marry ;  that  you  have 
even  assured  me  that  it  would  give  you  sincere  pleasure, 
that  is,  real  satisfaction,  to  see  me  happily  established." 

"Oh,  Grace,  if  you  knew  how  much  I  felt  when  I  said 
that,  you  would  spare  this  raillery." 

"I  will  be  serious — I  am  most  seriously  convinced  of  the 

228 


THE  ABSENTEE 

sincerity  of  your  affection  for  me;  I  know  my  happiness  is 
your  object  in  all  you  have  said,  and  I  thank  you  from  my 
heart  for  the  interest  you  take  about  me.  But  really  and 
truly,  I  do  not  wish  to  marry.  This  is  not  a  mere  com- 
monplace speech ;  but  I  have  not  yet  seen  any  man  I  could 
love.  1  like  you,  cousin  Colambre,  better  than  Mr.  Salis- 
bury— I  would  rather  live  with  you  than  with  him ;  you 
know  that  is  a  certain  proof  that  I  am  not  likely  to  be  in 
love  with  him.  I  am  happy  as  I  am,  especially  now  we 
are  all  going  to  dear  Ireland,  home,  to  live  together:  you 
cannot  conceive  with  what  pleasure  I  look  forward  to 
that." 

Lord  Colambre  was  not  vain ;  but  love  quickly  sees  love 
where  it  exists,  or  foresees  the  probability,  the  possibility 
of  its  existence.  He  saw  that  Miss  Nugent  might  love 
him  tenderly,  passionately;  but  that  duty,  habit,  the  pre- 
possession that  it  was  impossible  she  could  marry  her  cousin 
Colambre — a  prepossession  instilled  into  her  by  his  mother 
— had  absolutely  prevented  her  from  ever  yet  thinking  of 
him  as  a  lover.  He  saw  the  hazard  for  her,  he  felt  the 
danger  for  himself.  Never  had  she  appeared  to  him  so 
attractive  as  at  this  moment,  when  he  felt  the  hope  that  he 
could  obtain  return  of  love. 

"But  St.  Omar! — Why!  why  is  she  a  St.  Omar! — illegi- 
timate ! — '  No  St.  Omar  sans  reproche. '  My  wife  she  cannot 
be — I  will  not  engage  her  affections." 

Swift  as  thoughts  in  moments  of  strong  feeling  pass  in 
the  mind  without  being  put  into  words,  our  hero  thought 
all  this,  and  determined,  cost  what  it  would,  to  act  honour- 
ably. 

"You  spoke  of  my  returning  to  Ireland,  my  dear  Grace. 
I  have  not  yet  told  you  my  plans." 

"Plans!  are  not  you  returning  with  us?"  said  she,  pre- 
cipitately; "are  not  you  going  to  Ireland — home — with 
us? " 

"No — I  am  going  to  serve  a  campaign  or  two  abroad. 
I  think  every  young  man  in  these  times " 

' '  Good  heavens  !  What  does  this  mean  ?  What  can  you 
mean?  "  cried  she,  fixing  her  eyes  upon  his,  as  if  she  would 

229 


THE  ABSENTEE 

read  his  very  soul.  "Why?  what  reason? — Oh,  tell  me  the 
truth— and  at  once." 

His  change  of  colour — his  hand  that  trembled,  and  with- 
drew from  hers — the  expression  of  his  eyes  as  they  met  hers 
— revealed  the  truth  to  her  at  once.  As  it  flashed  across 
her  mind,  she  started  back;  her  face  grew  crimson,  and,  in 
the  same  instant,  pale  as  death. 

"Yes — you  see,  you  feel  the  truth  now,"  said  Lord 
Colambre.  "You  see,  you  feel,  that  I  love  you — passion- 
ately." 

' '  Oh,  let  me  not  hear  it !  "  said  she ;  "  I  must  not — ought 
not.  Never,  till  this  moment,  did  such  a  thought  cross  my 
mind — I  thought  it  impossible — -oh,  make  me  think  so 
still." 

"I  will — it  is  impossible  that  we  can  ever  be  united." 

"I  always  thought  so,"  said  she,  taking  breath  with  a 
deep  sigh.     "Then  why  not  live  as  we  have  lived?" 

"I  cannot — I  cannot  answer  for  myself — I  will  not  run 
the  risk;  and  therefore  I  must  quit  you — knowing,  as  I  do, 
that  there  is  an  invincible  obstacle  to  our  union,  of  what 
nature  I  cannot  explain;  I  beg  you  not  to  inquire." 

"You  need  not  beg  it — I  shall  not  inquire — I  have  no 
curiosity — none,"  said  she,  in  a  passive,  dejected  tone; 
"that  is  not  what  I  am  thinking  of  in  the  least.  I  know 
there  are  invincible  obstacles;  I  wish  it  to  be  so.  But,  if 
invincible,  you  who  have  so  much  sense,  honour,  and 
virtue " 

"I  hope,  my  dear  cousin,  that  I  have  honour  and  virtue. 
But  there  are  temptations  to  which  no  wise,  no  good  man 
will  expose  himself.  Innocent  creature!  you  do  not  know 
the  power  of  love.     I  rejoice  that  you  have  always  thought 

it  impossible — think  so  still — it  will  save  you  from all  I 

must  endure.  Think  of  me  but  as  your  cousin,  your  friend 
— give  your  heart  to  some  happier  man.  As  your  friend, 
your  true  friend,  I  conjure  you,  give  your  heart  to  some 
more  fortunate  man.  Marry,  if  you  can  feel  love — marry, 
and  be  happy.  Honour!  virtue!  Yes,  I  have  both,  and  I 
will  not  forfeit  them.  Yes,  I  will  merit  your  esteem  and 
my  own — by  actions,    not    words;    and    I    give   you    the 

230 


*As  It  flashed  across  her  mind,  she  started  back;   her  face  grew 
crimson,  and,  in  the  same  instant,  pale  as  death.' 


THE  ABSENTEE 

strongest  proof,  by  tearing  myself  from  you  at  this  mo- 
ment.     Farewell!  " 

"The  carriage  at  the  door,  Miss  Nugent,  and  my  lady 
calling  for  you,"  said  her  maid.  "Here's  your  key, 
ma'am,  and  here's  your  gloves,  my  dear  ma'am." 

"The  carriage  at  the  door.  Miss  Nugent,"  said  Lady 
Clonbrony's  woman,  coming  eagerly  with  parcels  in  her 
hand,  as  Miss  Nugent  passed  her  and  ran  downstairs; 
"and  I  don't  know  where  I  laid  my  lady's  nnmbrclla,  for 
my  life^ — ^do  you,  Anne?" 

"No,  indeed — but  I  know  here's  my  own  young  lady's 
watch  that  she  has  left.  Bless  me !  I  never  knew  her  to 
forget  anything  on  a  journey  before." 

"Then  she  is  going  to  be  married,  as  sure  as  my  name's 
Le  Maistre,  and  to  my  Lord  Colambre ;  for  he  has  been 
here  this  hour,  to  my  certain  Bible  knowledge.  Oh,  you'll 
see,  she  will  be  Lady  Colambre." 

"I  wish  she  may,  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Anne;  "but 
I  must  run  down — they're  waiting." 

"Oh  no,"  said  Mrs.  le  Maistre,  seizing  Anne's  arm,  and 
holding  her  fast;  "stay — you  may  safely — for  they're  all 
kissing  and  taking  leave,  and  all  that,  you  know ;  and  my 
lady  is  talking  on  about  Mr.  Soho,  and  giving  a  hundred 
directions  about  legs  of  tables,  and  so  forth,  I  warrant — 
she's  always  an  hour  after  she's  ready  before  she  gets  in — 
and  I'm  looking  for  the  numbrella.  So  stay,  and  tell  me 
— Mrs.  Petito  wrote  over  word  it  was  to  be  Lady  Isabel; 
and  then  a  contradiction  came — it  was  turned  into  the 
youngest  of  the  Killpatricks;  and  now  here  he's  in  Miss 
Nugent's  dressing-room  to  the  last  moment.  Now,  in  my 
opinion,  that  am  not  censorious,  this  does  not  look  so 
pretty;  but,  according  to  my  verdict,  he  is  only  making  a 
fool  of  Miss  Nugent,  like  the  rest;  and  his  lordship  seems 
too  like  what  you  might  call  a  male  cocket,  or  a  masculine 
jilt." 

"No  more  like  a  masculine  jilt  than  yourself,  Mrs.  le 
Maistre,"  cried  Anne,  taking  fire.  "And  my  young  lady 
is  not  a  lady  to  be  made  a  fool  of,  I  promise  you  ;  nor  is 
my  lord  likely  to  make  a  fool  of  any  woman." 

231 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Bless  us  all !  that's  no  great  praise  for  any  young  noble- 
man, Miss  Anne." 

"Mrs,  le  Maistre!  Mrs.  le  Maistre !  are  you  above?" 
cried  a  footman  from  the  bottom  of  the  stairs;  "my  lady's 
calling  for  you." 

"Very  well!  very  well!"  said  sharp  Mrs.  le  Maistre; 
"very  well !  and  if  she  is — manners,  sir! — Come  up  for  one, 
can't  you,  and  don't  stand  bawling  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs,  as  if  one  had  no  ears  to  be  saved.  I'm  coming  as 
fast  as  I  conveniently  can."  Mrs.  le  Maistre  stood  in  the 
doorway,  so  as  to  fill  it  up,  and  prevent  Anne  from  passing. 

"Miss  Anne!  Miss  Anne!  Mrs.  le  Maistre!"  cried 
another  footman;  "my  lady's  in  the  carriage,  and  Miss 
Nugent." 

"Miss  Nugent! — is  she? "  cried  Mrs.  le  Maistre,  running 
downstairs,  followed  by  Anne.  "Now,  for  the  world  in 
pocket-pieces  wouldn't  I  have  missed  seeing  him  hand  Miss 
Nugent  in;  for  by  that  I  could  have  judged  definitively." 

"My  lord,  I  beg  pardon! — I'm  afeard  I'm  late,"  said 
Mrs.  le  Maistre,  as  she  passed  Lord  Colambre,  who  was 
standing  motionless  in  the  hall.  "I  beg  a  thousand  par- 
dons; but  I  was  hunting  high  and  low,  for  my  lady's 
niimbrella. 

Lord  Colambre  did  not  hear  or  heed  her;  his  eyes  were 
fixed,  and  they  never  moved. 

Lord  Clonbrony  was  at  the  open  carriage-door,  kneeling 
on  the  step,  and  receiving  Lady  Clonbrony 's  "more  last 
words"  for  Mr.  Soho.  The  two  waiting-maids  stood  to- 
gether on  the  steps. 

"Look  at  our  young  lord,  how  he  stands,"  whispered 
Mrs.  le  Maistre  to  Anne,  "the  image  of  despair!  And 
she,  the  picture  of  death! — I  don't  know  what  to  think." 

"Nor  I ;  but  don't  stare  if  you  can  help  it,"  said  Anne. 
"Get  in,  get  in,  Mrs.  le  Maistre,"  added  she,  as  Lord 
Clonbrony  now  rose  from  the  step,  and  made  way  for 
them. 

"Ay,  in  with  you — in  with  you,  Mrs.  le  Maistre,"  said 
Lord  Clonbrony.  "Good-bye  to  you,  Anne,  and  take  care 
of  your  young  mistress  at  Buxton ;  let  me  see  her  bloom- 

232 


THE  ABSENTEE 

ing  when  we  meet  again ;  I  don't  half  like  her  looks,  and  I 
never  thought  Buxton  agreed  with  her." 

"Buxton  never  did  anybody  harm,"  said  Lady  Clon- 
brony ;  "and  as  to  bloom,  I'm  sure,  if  Grace  has  not  bloom 
enough  in  her  cheeks  this  moment  to  please  you,  I  don't 
know  what  you'd  have,  my  dear  lord — Rouge? — Shut  the 
door,  John!  Oh,  stay! — Colambre !  Where  upon  earth's 
Colambre? "  cried  her  ladyship,  stretching  from  the  farthest 
side  of  the  coach  to  the  window. — "Colambre!  " 

Colambre  was  forced  to  appear. 

"Colambre,  my  dear!  I  forgot  to  say  that,  if  anything 
detains  you  longer  than  Wednesday  se'nnight,  I  beg  you 
will  not  fail  to  write,  or  I  shall  be  miserable." 

"I  will  write;  at  all  events,  my  dearest  mother,  you 
shall  hear  from  me." 

"Then  I  shall  be  quite  happy.     Go  on!  " 

The  carriage  drove  on. 

"I  do  believe  Colambre's  ill;  I  never  saw  a  man  look  so 
ill  in  my  life — did  you,  Grace? — as  he  did  the  minute  we 
drove  on.  He  should  take  advice.  I've  a  mind,"  cried 
Lady  Clonbrony,  laying  her  hand  on  the  cord  to  stop  the 
coachman — "I've  a  mind  to  turn  about,  tell  him  so,  and 
ask  what  is  the  matter  with  him." 

"Better  not!"  said  Miss  Nugent ;  "he  will  write  to  you, 
and  tell  you— if  anything  is  the  matter  with  him.  Better 
go  on  now  to  Buxton!  "  continued  she,  scarcely  able  to 
speak.      Lady  Clonbrony  let  go  the  cord. 

"But  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  dear  Grace?  for 
you  are  certainly  going  to  die  too !  " 

"I  will  tell  you — as  soon  as  I  can;  but  don't  ask  me 
now,  my  dear  aunt !  " 

"Grace,  Grace!  pull  the  cord!"  cried  Lady  Clonbrony 

— "Mr.  Salisbury's  phaeton  ! Mr.  Salisbury,  I'm  happy 

to  see  you !  We're  on  our  way  to  Buxton — as  I  told 
you," 

"So  am  I,"  said  Mr.  Salisbury.  "I  hope  to  be  there 
before  your  ladyship;  will  you  honour  me  with  any  com- 
mands?— of  course,  I  will  see  that  everything  is  ready  for 
your  reception." 

233 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Her  ladyship  had  not  any  commands.  Mr.  Salisbury 
drove  on  rapidly. 

Lady  Clonbrony's  ideas  had  now  taken  the  Salisbury 
channel. 

"You  didn't  know  that  Mr.  Salisbury  was  going  to  Bux- 
ton to  meet  you,  did  you,  Grace?  "  said  Lady  Clonbrony. 

"No,  indeed,  I  did  not!  "  said  Miss  Nugent;  "and  I  am 
very  sorry  for  it.  ' 

"Young  ladies,  as  Mrs.  Broadhurst  says,  'never  know, 
or  at  least  never  tell,  what  they  are  sorry  or  glad  for,'  " 
replied  Lady  Clonbrony.  "At  all  events,  Grace,  my  love, 
it  has  brought  the  fine  bloom  back  to  your  cheeks;  and  I 
own  I  am  satisfied." 


CHAPTER    XV. 

GONE  !  for  ever  gone  from  me !  "  said  Lord  Colambre 
to  himself,  as  the  carriage  drove  away.     "Never 
shall  I  see  her  more — never  zvill  I  see  her  more, 
till  she  is  married." 

Lord  Colambre  went  to  his  own  room,  locked  the  door, 
and  was  relieved  in  some  degree  by  the  sense  of  privacy; 
by  the  feeling  that  he  could  now  indulge  his  reflections 
undisturbed.  He  had  consolation — he  had  done  what  was 
honourable — he  had  transgressed  no  duty,  abandoned  no 
principle — he  had  not  injured  the  happiness  of  any  human 
being — he  had  not,  to  gratify  himself,  hazarded  the  peace 
of  the  woman  he  loved — he  had  not  sought  to  win  her 
heart.  Of  her  innocent,  her  warm,  susceptible  heart,  he 
might  perhaps  have  robbed  her — he  knew  it — but  he  had 
left  it  untouched,  he  hoped  entire,  in  her  own  power,  to 
bless  with  it  hereafter  some  man  worthy  of  her.  In  the 
hope  that  she  might  be  happy.  Lord  Colambre  felt  relief; 
and  in  the  consciousness  that  he  had  made  his  parents 
happy,  he  rejoiced.  But,  as  soon  as  his  mind  turned  that 
way  for  consolation,  came  the  bitter  concomitant  reflec- 
tion, that  his  mother  must  be  disappointed  in  her  hopes  of 
his  accompanying  her  home,  and  of  his  living  with  her  in 

234 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Ireland  ;  she  would  be  miserable  when  she  should  hear  that 
he  was  going  abroad  into  the  army — and  yet  it  must  be  so 
— and  he  must  write,  and  tell  her  so.  "The  sooner  this 
difficulty  is  off  my  mind,  the  sooner  this  painful  letter  is 
written,  the  better,"  thought  he.  "It  must  be  done — I 
will  do  it  immediately." 

He  snatched  up  his  pen,  and  began  a  letter. 

"My  dear  mother — Miss  Nugent " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  at  his  door. 

"A  gentleman  below,  my  lord,"  said  a  servant,  "who 
wishes  to  see  you." 

"I  cannot  see  any  gentleman.  Did  you  say  I  was  at 
home? " 

"No,  my  lord;  I  said  you  was  not  at  home;  for  I 
thought  you  would  not  choose  to  be  at  home,  and  your 
own  man  was  not  in  the  way  for  me  to  ask — so  I  denied 
you ;  but  the  gentleman  would  not  be  denied ;  he  said  I 
must  come  and  see  if  you  was  at  home.  So,  as  he  spoke 
as  if  he  was  a  gentleman  not  used  to  be  denied,  I  thought 
it  might  be  somebody  of  consequence,  and  I  showed  him 
into  the  front  drawing-room.  I  think  he  said  he  was  sure 
you'd  be  at  home  for  a  friend  from  Ireland." 

"A  friend  from  Ireland !  Why  did  not  you  tell  me  that 
sooner?"  said  Lord  Colambre,  rising,  and  running  down- 
stairs.    "Sir  James  Brooke,  I  daresay." 

No,  not  Sir  James  Brooke;  but  one  he  was  almost  as 
glad  to  see — Count  O'HalloranI 

"My  dear  count!  the  greater  pleasure  for  being  unex- 
pected." 

"I  came  to  London  but  yesterday,"  said  the  count; 
"but  I  could  not  be  here  a  day,  without  doing  myself  the 
honour  of  paying  my  respects  to  Lord  Colambre." 

"You  do  me  not  only  honour,  but  pleasure,  my  dear 
count.  People  when  they  like  one  another,  always  find 
each  other  out,  and  contrive  to  meet  even  in  London." 

"You  are  too  polite  to  ask  what  brought  such  a  super- 
annuated militaire  as  I  am,"  said  the  count,  "from  his 
retirement  into  this  gay  world  again.  A  relation  of  mine, 
who  is  one  of  our  Ministry,  knew  that  I  had  some  maps, 

235 


THE  ABSENTEE 

and  plans,  and  charts,  which  might  be  serviceable  in  an 
expedition  they  are  planning,  I  might  have  trusted  my 
charts  across  the  channel,  without  coming  myself  to  con- 
voy them,  you  will  say.  But  my  relation  fancied — young 
relations,  you  know,  if  they  are  good  for  anything,  are  apt 
to  overvalue  the  heads  of  old  relations — fancied  that  mine 
was  worth  bringing  all  the  way  from  Halloran  Castle  to 
London,  to  consult  with  tete-a-tete.  So  you  know,  when 
this  was  signified  to  me  by  a  letter  from  the  secretary  in 
office,  private,  most  confidential,  what  could  I  do,  but  do 
myself  the  honour  to  obey?  For  though  honour's  voice 
cannot  provoke  the  silent  dust,  yet  'flattery  soothes  the 
dull  cold  ear  of  age.' — But  enough,  and  too  much  of  my- 
self," said  the  count:  "tell  me,  my  dear  lord,  something 
of  yourself.  I  do  not  think  England  seems  to  agree  with 
you  so  well  as  Ireland ;  for,  excuse  me,  in  point  of  health, 
you  don't  look  like  the  same  man  I  saw  some  weeks  ago." 

"My  mind  has  been  ill  at  ease  of  late,"  said  Lord  Colam- 
bre. 

"Ay,  there's  the  thing!  The  body  pays  for  the  m.ind — 
but  those  who  have  feeling  minds,  pain  and  pleasure  alto- 
gether computed,  have  the  advantage;  or  at  least  they 
think  so ;  for  they  would  not  change  with  those  who  have 
them  not,  were  they  to  gain  by  the  bargain  the  most 
robust  body  that  the  most  selfish  coxcomb,  or  the  heaviest 
dunce  extant,  ever  boasted.  For  instance,  would  you 
now,  my  lord,  at  this  moment  change  altogether  with 
Major  Benson,  or  Captain  Williamson,  or  even  our  friend, 
'Eh,  really  now,  'pon  honour' — would  you? — I'm  glad  to 
see  you  smile." 

"I  thank  you  for  making  me  smile,  for  I  assure  you  I 
want  it.  I  wish — if  you  would  not  think  me  encroaching 
upon  your  politeness  and  kindness  in  honouring  me  with 

this  visit .     You  see,"  continued  he,  opening  the  doors 

of  the  back  drawing-room,  and  pointing  to  large  packages — 
"you  see  we  are  all  preparing  for  a  march  ;  my  mother  has 
left  town  half  an  hour  ago — my  father  engaged  to  dine 
abroad — only  I  at  home — and,  in  this  state  of  confusion, 
could  I  even  venture  to  ask  Count  O'Halloran  to  stay  and 

236 


THE  ABSENTEE 

dine  with  me,  without  being  able  to  offer  him  Irish  orto- 
lans or  Irish  plums — in  short,  will  you  let  me  rob  you  of 
two  or  three  hours  of  your  time?  I  am  anxious  to  have 
your  opinion  on  a  subject  of  some  importance  to  me,  and 
on  one  where  you  are  peculiarly  qualified  to  judge  and 
decide  for  me." 

"My  dear  lord,  frankly,  I  have  nothing  half  so  good  or 
so  agreeable  to  do  with  my  time ;  command  my  hours.  I 
have  already  told  you  how  much  it  flatters  me  to  be  con- 
sulted by  the  most  helpless  clerk  in  office ;  how  much  more 
about  the  private  concerns  of  an  enlightened  young — 
friend,  will  Lord  Colambre  permit  me  to  say?  I  hope  so; 
for  though  the  length  of  our  acquaintance  might  not  justify 
the  word,  yet  regard  and  intimacy  are  not  always  in  pro- 
portion to  the  time  people  have  known  each  other,  but  to 
their  mutual  perception  of  certain  attaching  qualities,  a 
certain  similarity  and  suitableness  of  character." 

The  good  count,  seeing  that  Lord  Colambre  was  in  much 
distress  of  mind,  did  all  he  could  to  soothe  him  by  kind- 
ness ;  far  from  making  any  difficulty  about  giving  up  a  few 
hours  of  his  time,  he  seemed  to  have  no  other  object  in 
London,  and  no  purpose  in  life,  but  to  attend  to  our  hero. 
To  put  him  at  ease,  and  to  give  him  time  to  recover  and 
arrange  his  thoughts,  the  count  talked  of  indifferent  sub- 
jects. 

"I  think  I  heard  you  mention  the  name  of  Sir  James 
Brooke." 

"Yes,  I  expected  to  have  seen  him  when  the  servant  first 
mentioned  a  friend  from  Ireland ;  because  Sir  James  had 
told  me  that,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  leave  of  absence,  he 
would  come  to  England." 

"He  is  come;  is  now  at  his  estate  in  Huntingdonshire; 
doing,  what  do  you  think?  I  will  give  you  a  leading  hint ; 
recollect  the  seal  which  the  little  De  Cresey  put  into  your 
hands  the  day  you  dined  at  Oranmore.  Faithful  to  his 
motto,  'Deeds  not  words,'  he  is  this  instant,  I  believe,  at 
deeds,  title-deeds ;  making  out  marriage  settlements,  get- 
ting ready  to  put  his  seal  to  the  happy  articles." 

"Happy  man!     I  give  him  joy,"  said  Lord  Colambre; 

237 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"happy  man!  going  to  be  married  to  such  a  woman — 
daughter  of  such  a  mother." 

"Daughter  of  such  a  mother!  That  is  indeed  a  great 
addition  and  a  great  security  to  his  happiness,"  said  the 
count.  "Such  a  family  to  marry  into;  good  from  genera- 
tion to  generation ;  illustrious  by  character  as  well  as  by 
genealogy;  'all  the  sons  brave,  and  all  the  daughters 
chaste.'" — Lord  Colambre  with  difficulty  repressed  his 
feelings. — "If  I  could  choose,  I  would  rather  that  a  wo- 
man I  loved  were  of  such  a  family  than  that  she  had  for 
her  dower  the  mines  of  Peru." 

"So  would  I,"  cried  Lord  Colambre. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  my  lord,  and  with  such 
energy ;  so  few  young  men  of  the  present  day  look  to  what 
I  call  good  connexion.  In  marrying,  a  man  does  not,  to 
be  sure,  marry  his  wife's  mother;  and  yet  a  prudent  man, 
when  he  begins  to  think  of  the  daughter,  would  look  sharp 
at  the  mother;  ay,  and  back  to  the  grandmother  too,  and 
along  the  whole  female  line  of  ancestry." 

"True — most  true — he  ought — he  must." 

"And  I  have  a  notion,"  said  the  count,  smiling,  "your 
lordship's  practice  has  been  conformable  to  your  theory." 

"l! — mine!  "  said  Lord  Colambre,  starting,  and  looking 
at  the  count  with  surprise. 

' '  I  beg  your  pardon, ' '  said  the  count ;  "  I  did  not  intend 
to  surprise  your  confidence.  But  you  forget  that  I  was 
present,  and  saw  the  impression  which  was  made  on  your 
mind  by  a  mother's  want  of  a  proper  sense  of  delicacy  and 
propriety — Lady  Dashfort." 

"Oh,  Lady  Dashfort!  she  was  quite  out  of  my  head." 

"And  Lady  Isabel? — I  hope  she  is  quite  out  of  your 
heart." 

"She  never  was  in  it,"  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"Only  laid  siege  to  it,"  said  the  count.  "Well,  I  am 
glad  your  heart  did  not  surrender  at  discretion,  or  rather 
without  discretion.  Then  I  may  tell  you,  without  fear  or 
preface,  that  the  Lady  Isabel,  who  'talks  of  refinement, 
delicacy,  sense,'  is  going  to  stoop  at  once,  and  marry — 
Heathcock." 

238 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Lord  Colambre  was  not  surprised,  but  concerned  and 
disgusted,  as  he  always  felt,  even  when  he  did  not  care  for 
the  individual,  from  hearing  anything  which  tended  to 
lower  the  female  sex  in  public  estimation. 

"As  to  myself,"  said  he,  "I  cannot  say  I  have  had  an 
escape,  for  I  don't  think  I  ever  was  in  much  danger." 

"It  is  difficult  to  measure  danger  when  it  is  over — past 
danger,  like  past  pain,  is  soon  forgotten,"  said  the  old 
general.     "At  all  events,  I  rejoice  in  your  present  safety." 

"But  is  she  really  going  to  be  married  to  Heathcock?" 
said  Lord  Colambre. 

"Positively;  they  all  came  over  in  the  same  packet  with 
me,  and  they  are  all  in  town  now,  buying  jewels,  and 
equipages,  and  horses.  Heathcock,  you  know,  is  as  good 
as  another  man,  a  peu  prh,  for  all  those  purposes;  his 
father  is  dead,  and  left  him  a  large  estate.  Que  voiiles 
vous  ?  as  the  French  valet  said  to  me  on  the  occasion. 
C est  que  monsieur  est  un  homrne  de  bien  :  il  a  des  Mens,  ^ 
ce  qii  0)1  dit." 

Lord  Colambre  could  not  help  smiling. 

"How  they  got  Heathcock  to  fall  in  love  is  what  puzzles 
me,"  said  his  lordship.  "I  should  as  soon  have  thought 
of  an  oyster's  falling  in  love  as  that  being!  " 

"I  own  I  should  have  sooner  thought,"  replied  the 
count,  "of  his  falling  in  love  with  an  oyster;  and  so  would 
you,  if  you  had  seen  him,  as  I  did,  devouring  oysters  on 
shipboard. 

"  Say,  can  the  lovely  heroine  hope  to  vie 
With  a  fat  turtle  or  a  van 'son  pie  ? 

But  that  is  not  our  affair;  let  the  Lady  Isabel  look  to  it." 
Dinner  was  announced ;  and  no  farther  conversation  of 
any  consequence  passed  between  the  count  and  Lord  Co- 
lambre till  the  cloth  was  removed  and  the  servants  had 
withdrawn.  Then  our  hero  opened  on  the  subject  which 
was  heavy  at  his  heart. 

"My  dear  count — to  go  back  to  the  burial-place  of  the 
Nugents,  where  my  head  was  lost  the  first  time  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you — you  know,  or,  possibly,"  said  he, 

239 


THE  ABSENTEE 

smiling,  "you  do  not  know,  that  I  have  a  cousin  of  the 
name  of  Nugent?" 

"You  told  me,"  replied  the  count,  "that  you  had  near 
relations  of  that  name;  but  I  do  not  recollect  that  you 
mentioned  any  one  in  particular." 

"I  never  named  Miss  Nugent  to  you.  No  !  it  is  not  easy 
to  me  to  talk  of  her,  and  impossible  to  me  to  describe  her. 
If  you  had  come  one  half-hour  sooner  this  morning,  you 
would  have  seen  her:  I  know  she  is  exactly  suited  to  your 
excellent  taste.  But  it  is  not  at  first  sight  she  pleases 
most ;  she  gains  upon  the  affections,  attaches  the  heart, 
and  unfolds  upon  the  judgment.  In  temper,  manners, 
and  good  sense,  in  every  quality  a  man  can  or  should  de- 
sire in  a  wife,  I  never  saw  her  equal.  Yet,  there  is  an  ob- 
stacle, an  invincible  obstacle,  the  nature  of  which  I  cannot 
explain  to  you,  that  forbids  me  to  think  of  her  as  a  wife. 
She  lives  with  my  father  and  mother :  they  are  returning 
to  Ireland.  I  wished,  earnestly  wished,  on  many  accounts, 
to  have  accompanied  them,  chiefly  on  my  mother's;  but  it 
cannot  be.  The  first  thing  a  man  must  do  is  to  act  hon- 
ourably ;  and,  that  he  may  do  so,  he  must  keep  out  of  the 
way  of  a  temptation  which  he  believes  to  be  above  his 
strength.  I  will  never  see  Miss  Nugent  again  till  she  is 
married ;  I  must  either  stay  in  England,  or  go  abroad.  I 
have  a  mind  to  serve  a  campaign  or  two,  if  I  could  get  a 
commission  in  a  regiment  going  to  Spain  ;  but  I  understand 
so  many  are  eager  to  go  at  this  moment,  that  it  is  very 
difificult  to  get  a  commission  in  such  a  regiment." 

"It  is  difificult,"  said  the  count.  "But,"  added  he,  after 
thinking  for  a  moment,  "I  have  it!  I  can  get  the  thing 
done  for  you,  and  directly.  Major  Benson,  in  consequence 
of  that  affair,  you  know,  about  his  mistress,  is  forced  to 
quit  the  regiment.  When  the  lieutenant-colonel  came  to 
quarters,  and  the  rest  of  the  officers  heard  the  fact,  they 
would  not  keep  company  with  Benson,  and  would  not  mess 
with  him.  I  know  he  wants  to  sell  out ;  and  that  regiment 
is  to  be  ordered  immediately  to  Spain.  I  will  have  the 
thing  done  for  you,  if  you  request  it." 

"First,  give  me  your  advice,  Count  O'Halloran;   you 

240 


THE  ABSENTEE 

are  well  acquainted  with  the  military  profession,  with  mili- 
tary life.  Would  you  advise  me — I  won't  speak  of  myself, 
because  we  judge  better  by  general  views  than  by  particu- 
lar cases — would  you  advise  a  young  man  at  present  to  go 
into  the  army?  " 

The  count  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  re- 
plied:  "Since  you  seriously  ask  my  opinion,  my  lord,  I 
must  lay  aside  my  own  prepossessions,  and  endeavour  to 
speak  with  impartiality.  To  go  into  the  army  in  these 
days,  my  lord,  is,  in  my  sober  opinion,  the  most  absurd 
and  base,  or  the  wisest  and  noblest  thing  a  young  man  can 
do.  To  enter  into  the  army,  with  the  hope  of  escaping 
from  the  application  necessary  to  acquire  knowledge,  let- 
ters, and  science — I  run  no  risk,  my  lord,  in  saying  this  to 
you — to  go  into  the  army,  with  the  hope  of  escaping  from 
knowledge,  letters,  science,  and  morality ;  to  wear  a  red 
coat  and  an  epaulette;  to  be  called  captain;  to  figure  at  a 
ball;  to  lounge  away  time  in  country  sports,  at  country 
quarters,  was  never,  even  in  times  of  peace,  creditable; 
but  it  is  now  absurd  and  base.  Submitting  to  a  certain 
portion  of  ennui  and  contempt,  this  mode  of  life  for  an 
officer  was  formerly  practicable — but  now  cannot  be  sub- 
mitted to  without  utter,  irremediable  disgrace.  Officers  are 
now,  in  general,  men  of  education  and  information;  want 
of  knowledge,  sense,  manners,  must  consequently  be  im- 
mediately detected,  ridiculed,  and  despised  in  a  military 
man.  Of  this  we  have  not  long  since  seen  lamentable  ex- 
amples in  the  raw  officers  who  have  lately  disgraced  them- 
selves in  my  neighbourhood  in  Ireland — that  Major  Benson 
and  Captain  Williamson.  But  I  will  not  advert  to  such 
insignificant  individuals,  such  are  rare  exceptions — I  leave 
them  out  of  the  question — I  reason  on  general  principles. 
The  life  of  an  officer  is  not  now  a  life  of  parade,  of  cox- 
combical, or  of  profligate  idleness — but  of  active  service, 
of  continual  hardship  and  danger.  All  the  descriptions 
which  we  see  in  ancient  history  of  a  soldier's  life — descrip- 
tions which,  in  times  of  peace,  appeared  like  romance — are 
now  realised;  military  exploits  fill  every  day's  newspapers, 
every  day's  conversation.  A  martial  spirit  is  now  essential 
i^  241 


THE  ABSENTEE 

to  the  liberty  and  the  existence  of  our  own  country.  In 
the  present  state  of  things,  the  military  must  be  the  most 
honourable  profession,  because  the  most  useful.  Every 
movement  of  an  army  is  followed,  wherever  it  goes,  by  the 
public  hopes  and  fears.  Every  officer  must  now  feel,  be- 
sides this  sense  of  collective  importance,  a  belief  that  his 
only  dependence  must  be  on  his  own  merit — and  thus  his 
ambition,  his  enthusiasm,  are  raised ;  and  when  once  this 
noble  ardour  is  kindled  in  the  breast,  it  excites  to  exertion, 
and  supports  under  endurance.  But  I  forget  myself,"  said 
the  count,  checking  his  enthusiasm;  "I  promised  to  speak 
soberly.  If  I  have  said  too  much,  your  own  good  sense, 
my  lord,  will  correct  me,  and  your  good-nature  will  forgive 
the  prolixity  of  an  old  man,  touched  upon  his  favourite 
subject — the  passion  of  his  youth." 

Lord  Colambre,  of  course,  assured  the  count  that  he  was 
not  tired.  Indeed,  the  enthusiasm  with  which  this  old 
officer  spoke  of  his  profession,  and  the  high  point  of  view 
in  which  he  placed  it,  increased  our  hero's  desire  to  serve  a 
campaign  abroad.  Good  sense,  politeness,  and  experience 
of  the  world  preserved  Count  O'Halloran  from  that  foible 
with  which  old  officers  are  commonly  reproached,  of  talk- 
ing continually  of  their  own  military  exploits.  Though 
retired  from  the  world,  he  had  contrived,  by  reading  the 
best  books,  and  corresponding  with  persons  of  good  in- 
formation, to  keep  up  with  the  current  of  modern  affairs; 
and  he  seldom  spoke  of  those  in  which  he  had  been  formerly 
engaged.  He  rather  too  studiously  avoided  speaking  of 
himself;  and  this  fear  of  egotism  diminished  the  peculiar 
interest  he  might  have  inspired :  it  disappointed  curiosity, 
and  deprived  those  with  whom  he  conversed  of  many  enter- 
taining and  instructive  anecdotes.  However,  he  sometimes 
made  exceptions  to  his  general  rule  in  favour  of  persons 
who  peculiarly  pleased  him,  and  Lord  Colambre  was  of 
this  number. 

He  this  evening,  for  the  first  time,  spoke  to  his  lordship 
of  the  years  he  had  spent  in  the  Austrian  service ;  told  him 
anecdotes  of  the  emperor;  spoke  of  many  distinguished 
public  characters  whom  he  had  known  abroad ;  of  those 

242 


THE  ABSENTEE 

officers  who  had  been  his  friends  and  companions.  Among 
others  he  mentioned,  with  particular  regard,  a  young  Eng- 
lish officer  who  had  been  at  the  same  time  with  him  in  the 
Austrian  service,  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Reynolds. 

The  name  struck  Lord  Colambre;  it  was  the  name  of 
the  officer  who  had  been  the  cause  of  the  disgrace  of  Miss 
St.  Omar — of  Miss  Nugent's  mother.  "But  there  are  so 
many  Reynoldses. " 

He  eagerly  asked  the  age — the  character  of  this  officer. 

"He  was  a  gallant  youth,"  said  the  count,  "but  too  ad- 
venturous— too  rash.  He  fell,  after  distinguishing  himself 
in  a  glorious  manner,  in  his  twentieth  year — died  in  my 
arms." 

"Married  or  unmarried?"  cried  Lord  Colambre. 

"Married — he  had  been  privately  married,  less  than  a 
year  before  his  death,  to  a  very  young  English  lady,  who 
had  been  educated  at  a  convent  in  Vienna.  He  was  heir 
to  a  considerable  property,  I  believe,  and  the  young  lady 
had  little  fortune;  and  the  affair  was  kept  secret  from  the 
fear  of  offending  his  friends,  or  for  some  other  reason — I 
do  not  recollect  the  particulars." 

"Did  he  acknowledge  his  marriage?"  said  Lord  Co- 
lambre. 

"Never  till  he  was  dying — then  he  confided  his  secret  to 
me." 

"Do  you  recollect  the  name  of  the  young  lady  he 
married?  " 

"Yes — a  Miss  St.  Omar." 

"St.  Omar!  "  repeated  Lord  Colambre,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  lively  joy  in  his  countenance.  "But  are  you  cer- 
tain, my  dear  count,  that  she  was  really  married,  legally 
married,  to  Mr.  Reynolds?  Her  marriage  has  been  denied 
by  all  his  friends  and  relations — hers  have  never  been  able 

to  establish  it — her  daughter  is My  dear  count,  were 

you  present  at  the  marriage?  " 

"No,"  said  the  count,  "I  was  not  present  at  the  mar- 
riage; I  never  saw  the  lady,  nor  do  I  know  anything  of 
the  affair,  except  that  Mr.  Reynolds,  when  he  was  dying, 
assured  me  that  he  was  privately  married  to  a  Miss  St. 

243 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Omar,  who  was  then  boarding  at  a  convent  in  Vienna. 
The  young  man  expressed  great  regret  at  leaving  her 
totally  unprovided  for;  but  said  that  he  trusted  his  father 
would  acknowledge  her,  and  that  her  friends  would  be 
reconciled  to  her.  He  was  not  of  age,  he  said,  to  make  a 
will;  but  I  think  he  told  me  that  his  child,  who  at  that 
time  was  not  born,  would,  even  if  it  should  be  a  girl,  in- 
herit a  considerable  property.  With  this,  I  cannot,  how- 
ever, charge  my  memory  positively ;  but  he  put  a  packet 
into  my  hands  which,  he  told  me,  contained  a  certificate  of 
his  marriage,  and,  I  think  he  said,  a  letter  to  his  father; 
this  he  requested  that  I  would  transmit  to  England  by  some 
safe  hand.  Immediately  after  his  death,  I  went  to  the 
English  ambassador,  who  was  then  leaving  Vienna,  and 
delivered  the  packet  into  his  hands ;  he  promised  to  have 
it  safely  delivered.  I  was  obliged  to  go  the  next  day,  with 
the  troops,  to  a  distant  part  of  the  country.  When  I  re- 
turned, I  inquired  at  the  convent  what  had  become  of  Miss 
St.  Omar — I  should  say  Mrs.  Reynolds ;  and  I  was  told 
that  she  had  removed  from  the  convent  to  private  lodgings 
in  the  town,  some  time  previous  to  the  birth  of  her  child. 
The  abbess  seemed  much  scandalised  by  the  whole  trans- 
action ;  and  I  remember  I  relieved  her  mind  by  assuring 
her  that  there  had  been  a  regular  marriage.  For  poor 
young  Reynolds's  sake,  I]made  further  inquiries  about  the 
widow,  intending,  of  course,  to  act  as  a  friend,  if  she  was 
in  any  difficulty  or  distress.  But  I  found,  on  inquiry  at 
her  lodgings,  that  her  brother  had  come  from  England  for 
her,  and  had  carried  her  and  her  infant  away.  The  active 
scenes,"  continued  the  count,  "in  which  I  was  immediately 
afterwards  engaged,  drove  the  whole  affair  from  my  mind. 
Now  that  your  questions  have  recalled  them,  I  feel  certain 
of  the  facts  I  have  mentioned ;  and  I  am  ready  to  establish 
them  by  my  testimony." 

Lord  Colambre  thanked  him  with  an  eagerness  that 
showed  how  much  he  was  interested  in  the  event.  It  was 
clear,  he  said,  either  that  the  packet  left  with  the  ambas- 
sador had  not  been  delivered,  or  that  the  father  of  Mr. 
Reynolds  had  suppressed  the  certificate  of  the  marriage, 

244 


THE  ABSENTEE 

as  it  had  never  been  acknowledged  by  him  or  by  any  of 
the  family.  Lord  Colambre  now  frankly  told  the  count 
why  he  was  so  anxious  about  this  affair;  and  Count 
O'Halloran,  with  all  the  warmth  of  youth,  and  with  all 
the  ardent  generosity  characteristic  of  his  country,  entered 
into  his  feelings,  declaring  that  he  would  never  rest  till  he 
had  established  the  truth. 

"Unfortunately,"  said  the  count,  "the  ambassador  who 
took  the  packet  in  charge  is  dead.  I  am  afraid  we  shall 
have  difficulty." 

"But  he  must  have  had  some  secretary,"  said  Lord  Co- 
lambre; "who  was  his  secretary? — we  can  apply  to  him." 

"His  secretary  is  now  charge  d'affaires  in  Vienna — we 
cannot  get  at  him." 

"Into  whose  hands  have  that  ambassador's  papers  fallen 
— who  is  his  executor? "  said  Lord  Colambre. 

"His  executor! — now  you  have  it,"  cried  the  count. 
"His  executor  is  the  very  man  who  will  do  your  business 
— your  friend  Sir  James  Brooke  is  the  executor.  All 
papers,  of  course,  are  in  his  hands ;  or  he  can  have  access 
to  any  that  are  in  the  hands  of  the  family.  The  family 
seat  is  within  a  few  miles  of  Sir  James  Brooke's,  in  Hunt- 
ingdonshire, where,  as  I  told  you  before,  he  now  is." 

"I'll  go  to  him  immediately — set  out  in  the  mail  this 
night.  Just  in  time!"  cried  Lord  Colambre,  pulling  out 
his  watch  with  one  hand,  and  ringing  the  bell  with  the 
other. 

"Run  and  take  a  place  for  me  in  the  mail  for  Hunting- 
don.    Go  directly,"  said  Lord  Colambre  to  the  servant. 

"And  take  two  places,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  count. 
"My  lord,  I  will  accompany  you." 

But  this  Lord  Colambre  would  not  permit,  as  it  would 
be  unnecessary  to  fatigue  the  good  old  general ;  and  a  letter 
from  him  to  Sir  James  Brooke  would  do  all  that  the  count 
could  effect  by  his  presence;  the  search  for  the  papers 
would  be  made  by  Sir  James,  and  if  the  packet  could  be 
recovered,  or  if  any  memorandum  or  mode  of  ascertaining 
that  it  had  actually  been  delivered  to  old  Reynolds  could 
be  discovered,  Lord  Colambre  said  he  would  then  call  upon 

245 


THE  ABSENTEE 

the  count  for  his  assistance,  and  trouble  him  to  identify 
the  packet ;  or  to  go  with  him  to  Mr.  Reynolds  to  make 
further  inquiries;  and  to  certify,  at  all  events,  the  young 
man's  dying  acknowledgment  of  his  marriage  and  of  his 
child. 

The  place  in  the  mail,  just  in  time,  was  taken.  Lord 
Colambre  sent  a  servant  in  search  of  his  father,  with  a  note 
explaining  the  necessity  of  his  sudden  departure.  All  the 
business  which  remained  to  be  done  in  town  he  knew  Lord 
Clonbrony  could  accomplish  without  his  assistance.  Then 
he  wrote  a  few  lines  to  his  mother,  on  the  very  sheet  of 
paper  on  which,  a  few  hours  before^  he  had  sorrowfully  and 
slowly  begun  — 

My  dear  Mother — Miss  Nuge?it. 
He  now  joyfully  and  rapidly  went  on — 

My  DEAR  Mother  and  Miss  Nugent, 

I  hope  to  be  with  you  on  Wednesday  se'nnight;  but  if  unfore- 
seen circumstances  should  delay  me,  I  will  certainly  write  to 
you  again. — Dear  mother,  believe  me,  your  obliged  and 
grateful  son,  Colambre. 

The  count,  in  the  meantime,  wrote  a  letter  for  him'  to 
Sir  James  Brooke,  describing  the  packet  which  he  had 
given  to  the  ambassador,  and  relating  all  the  circumstances 
that  could  lead  to  its  recovery.  Lord  Colambre,  almost 
before  the  wax  was  hard,  seized  possession  of  the  letter; 
the  count  seeming  almost  as  eager  to  hurry  him  off  as  he 
was  to  set  out.  He  thanked  the  count  with  few  words, 
but  with  strong  feeling.  Joy  and  love  returned  in  full  tide 
upon  our  hero's  soul;  all  the  military  ideas,  which  but  an 
hour  before  filled  his  imagination,  were  put  to  flight :  Spain 
vanished,  and  green  Ireland  reappeared. 

Just  as  they  shook  hands  at  parting,  the  good  old  gen- 
eral, with  a  smile,  said  to  him,  "I  believe  I  had  better  not 
stir  in  the  matter  of  Benson's  commission  till  I  hear  more 
from  you.  My  harangue,  in  favour  of  the  military  pro- 
fession, will,  I  fancy,  prove  like  most  other  harangues,  en 
pure  perte. ' ' 

246 


THE  ABSENTEE 
CHAPTER  XVI. 

IN  what  words  of  polite  circumlocution,  or  of  cautious 
diplomacy,  shall  we  say,  or  hint,  that  the  deceased 
ambassador's  papers  were  found  in  shameful  disorder. 
His  excellency's  executor,  Sir  James  Brooke,  however,  was 
indefatigable  in  his  researches.  He  and  Lord  Colambre 
spent  two  whole  days  in  looking  over  portfolios  of  letters 
and  memorials,  and  manifestoes,  and  bundles  of  paper  of 
the  most  heterogeneous  sorts ;  some  of  them  without  any 
docket  or  direction  to  lead  to  a  knowledge  of  their  con- 
tents; others  written  upon  in  such  a  manner  as  to  give  an 
erroneous  notion  of  their  nature ;  so  that  it  was  necessary 
to  untie  every  paper  separately.  At  last,  when  they  had 
opened,  as  they  thought,  every  paper,  and,  wearied  and  in 
despair,  were  just  on  the  point  of  giving  up  the  search. 
Lord  Colambre  spied  a  bundle  of  old  newspapers  at  the 
bottom  of  a  trunk. 

' '  They  are  only  old  Vienna  Gazettes ;  I  looked  at  them, 
said  Sir  James. 

Lord  Colambre,  upon  this  assurance,  was  going  to  throw 
them  into  the  trunk  again ;  but  observing  that  the  bundle 
had  not  been  untied,  he  opened  it,  and  within-side  of  the 
newspapers  he  found  a  rough  copy  of  the  ambassador's 
journal,  and  with  it  the  packet,  directed  to  Ralph  Reynolds 
sen.,  Esq.,  Old  Court,  Suffolk,  per  favour  of  his  excellency, 

Earl ,  a  note  on  the  cover,  signed  O'Halloran,  stating 

when  received  by  him,  and  the  date  of  the  day  when  de- 
livered to  the  ambassador — seals  unbroken.  Our  hero  was 
in  such  a  transport  of  joy  at  the  sight  of  this  packet,  and 
his  friend  Sir  James  Brooke  so  full  of  his  congratulations, 
that  they  forgot  to  curse  the  ambassador's  carelessness, 
which  had  been  the  cause  of  so  much  evil. 

The  next  thing  to  be  done  was  to  deliver  the  packet  to 
Ralph  Reynolds,  Old  Court,  Suffolk.  But  when  Lord 
Colambre  arrived  at  Old  Court,  Suffolk,  he  found  all  the 
gates  locked,  and  no  admittance  to  be  had.  At  last  an  old 
woman  came  out  of  the  porter's  lodge,  who  said  Mr. 
Reynolds  was  not  there,  and  she  could  not  say  where  he 

247 


THE  ABSENTEE 

was.  After  our  hero  had  opened  her  heart  by  the  present 
of  half  a  guinea,  she  explained,  that  she  "could  not  Justly 
say  where  he  was,  because  that  he  never  let  anybody  of 
his  own  people  know  where  he  was  any  day  ;  he  had  several 
different  houses  and  places  in  different  parts,  and  far-off 
counties,  and  other  shires,  as  she  heard,  and  by  times  he 
was  at  one,  and  by  times  at  another.  The  names  of  two 
of  the  places,  Toddrington  and  Little  Wrestham,  she  knew ; 
but  there  were  others  to  which  she  could  give  no  direction. 
He  had  houses  in  odd  parts  of  London,  too,  that  he  let ; 
and  sometimes,  when  the  lodgers'  time  was  out,  he  would 
go,  and  be  never  heard  of  for  a  month,  maybe,  in  one  of 
them.  In  short,  there  was  no  telling  or  saying  where  he 
was  or  would  be  one  day  of  the  week,  by  where  he  had 
been  the  last." 

When  Lord  Colambre  expressed  some  surprise  that  an 
old  gentleman,  as  he  conceived  Mr.  Ralph  Reynolds  to  be, 
should  change  places  so  frequently,  the  old  woman  an- 
swered, "That  though  her  master  was  a  deal  on  the  wrong 
side  of  seventy,  and  though,  to  look  at  him,  you'd  think 
he  was  glued  to  his  chair,  and  would  fall  to  pieces  if  he 
should  stir  out  of  it,  yet  was  as  alert,  and  thought  no  more 
of  going  about,  than  if  he  was  as  young  as  the  gentleman 
who  was  now  speaking  to  her.  It  was  old  Mr.  Reynolds's 
delight  to  come  down  and  surprise  his  people  at  his  differ- 
ent places,  and  see  that  they  were  keeping  all  tight." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  is  he? — Is  he  a  miser? "  said  Lord 
Colambre. 

"He  is  a  miser,  and  he  is  not  a  miser,"  said  the  woman. 
"Now  he'd  think  as  much  of  the  waste  of  a  penny  as  an- 
other man  would  of  a  hundred  pounds,  and  yet  he  would 
give  a  hundred  pounds  easier  than  another  would  give  a 
penny,  when  he's  in  the  humour.  But  his  humour  is  very 
odd,  and  there's  no  knowing  where  to  have  him  ;  he's  gross- 
grained,  and  movQ posit ivcr-\\]si&  than  a  mule;  and  his  deaf- 
ness made  him  worse  in  this,  because  he  never  heard  what 
nobody  said,  but  would  say  on  his  own  way — he  was  very 
odd,  but  not  cracked — no,  he  was  as  clear-headed,  when  he 
took  a  thing  the  right  way,  as  any  man  could  be,  and  as 

248 


THE  ABSENTEE 

clever,  and  could  talk  as  well  as  any  member  of  Parlia- 
ment,—  and  good-natured,  and  kind-hearted,  where  he 
would  take  a  fancy — but  then,  maybe,  it  would  be  to  a 
dog  (he  was  remarkable  fond  of  dogs),  or  a  cat,  or  a  rat 
even,  that  he  would  take  a  fancy,  and  think  more  of  'em 
than  he  would  of  a  Christian.  But,  poor  gentleman,  there's 
great  allowance,"  said  she,  "to  be  made  for  him,  that  lost 
his  son  and  heir — that  would  have  been  heir  to  all,  and  a 
fine  youth  that  he  doted  upon.  But,"  continued  the  old 
woman,  in  whose  mind  the  transitions  from  great  to  little, 
from  serious  to  trivial,  were  ludicrously  abrupt,  "that  was 
no  reason  why  the  old  gentleman  should  scold  me  last  time 
he  was  here,  as  he  did,  for  as  long  as  ever  he  could  stand 
over  me,  only  because  I  killed  a  mouse  who  was  eating  my 
cheese;  and,  before  night,  he  beat  a  boy  for  stealing  a 
piece  of  that  same  cheese ;  and  he  would  never,  when  down 
here,  let  me  set  a  mouse-trap." 

"Well,  my  good  woman,"  interrupted  Lord  Colambre, 
who  was  little  interested  in  this  affair  of  the  mouse-trap, 
and  nowise  curious  to  learn  more  of  Mr.  Reynolds's  do- 
mestic economy,  "I'll  not  trouble  you  any  further,  if  you 
can  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  the  road  to  Toddrington,  or 
to  Little  Wickham,  I  think  you  call  it." 

"Little  Wickham!"  repeated  the  woman,  laughing — 
"Bless  you,  sir,  where  do  you  come  from? — It's  Little 
Wrestham ;  surely  everybody  knows,  near  Lantry ;  and 
keep  the  pike  till  you  come  to  the  turn  at  Rotherford,  and 
then  you  strike  off  into  the  by-road  to  the  left,  and  then 
again  turn  at  the  ford  to  the  right.  But,  if  you  are  going 
to  Toddrington,  you  don't  go  the  road  to  market,  which 
is  at  the  first  turn  to  the  left,  and  the  cross-country  road, 
where  there's  no  quarter,  and  Toddrington  lies — but  for 
Wrestham,  you  take  the  road  to  market." 

It  was  some  time  before  our  hero  could  persuade  the  old 
woman  to  stick  to  Little  Wrestham,  or  to  Toddrington, 
and  not  to  mix  the  directions  for  the  different  roads  to- 
gether— he  took  patience,  for  his  impatience  only  confused 
his  director  the  more.  In  process  of  time,  he  made  out, 
and  wrote  down,  the  various  turns  that  he  was  to  follow, 

249 


THE  ABSENTEE 

to  reach  Little  Wrestham ;  but  no  human  power  could  get 
her  from  Little  Wrestham  to  Toddrington,  though  she 
knew  the  road  perfectly  well ;  but  she  had,  for  the  seven- 
teen last  years,  been  used  to  go  "the  other  road,"  and  all 
the  carriers  went  that  way,  and  passed  the  door,  and  that 
was  all  she  could  certify. 

Little  Wrestham,  after  turning  to  the  left  and  right  as 
often  as  his  directory  required,  our  hero  happily  reached ; 
but,  unhappily,  he  found  no  Mr.  Reynolds  there ;  only  a 
steward,  who  gave  nearly  the  same  account  of  his  master 
as  had  been  given  by  the  old  woman,  and  could  not  guess 
even  where  the  gentleman  might  now  be.  Toddrington 
was  as  likely  as  any  place — but  he  could  not  say. 

"Perseverance  against  fortune."  To  Toddrington  our 
hero  proceeded,  through  cross-country  roads — such  roads ! 
— very  different  from  the  Irish  roads.  Waggon  ruts,  into 
which  the  carriage  wheels  sunk  nearly  to  the  nave — and, 
from  time  to  time,  "sloughs  of  despond,"  through  which 
it  seemed  impossible  to  drag,  walk,  wade,  or  swim,  and  all 
the  time  with  a  sulky  postillion.  "Oh,  how  unlike  my 
Larry!"  thought  Lord  Colambre. 

At  length,  in  a  very  narrow  lane,  going  up  a  hill,  said  to 
be  two  miles  of  ascent,  they  overtook  a  heavy  laden  wag- 
gon, and  they  were  obliged  to  go  step  by  step  behind  it, 
whilst,  enjoying  the  gentleman's  impatience  much,  and 
the  postillion's  sulkiness  more,  the  waggoner,  in  his  em- 
broidered frock,  walked  in  state,  with  his  long  sceptre  in 
his  hand. 

The  postillion  muttered  "curses  not  loud,  but  deep." 
Deep  or  loud,  no  purpose  would  they  have  answered ;  the 
waggoner's  temper  was  proof  against  curse  in  or  out  of 
the  English  language;  and  from  their  snail's  pace  neither 
Dickens  nor  devil,  nor  any  postillion  in  England,  could 
make  him  put  his  horses.  Lord  Colambre  jumped  out  of 
the  chaise,  and,  walking  beside  him,  began  to  talk  to  him; 
and  spoke  of  his  horses,  their  bells,  their  trappings;  the 
beauty  and  strength  of  the  thill-horse — the  value  of  the 
whole  team,  which  his  lordship  happening  to  guess  right 
within  ten  pounds,   and    showing,    moreover,   some   skill 

250 


THE  ABSENTEE 

^bout  road-making  and  waggon-wheels,  and  being  fortun- 
ately of  the  waggoner's  own  opinion  in  the  great  question 
about  conical  and  cylindrical  rims,  he  was  pleased  with 
the  young  chap  of  a  gentleman  ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  chufifi- 
ness  of  his  appearance  and  churlishness  of  his  speech,  this 
waggoner's  bosom  "being  made  of  penetrating  stuff,"  he 
determined  to  let  the  gentleman  pass.  Accordingly,  when 
half-way  up  the  hill,  and  the  head  of  the  fore-horse  came 
near  an  open  gate,  the  waggoner,  without  saying  one  word 
or  turning  his  head,  touched  the  horse  with  his  long  whip 
— and  the  horse  turned  in  at  the  gate,  and  then  came — 

"Dobbin! — Jeho!"  and  strange  calls  and  sounds,  which 
all  the  other  horses  of  the  team  obeyed ;  and  the  waggon 
turned  into  the  farmyard. 

"Now,  master!  while  I  turn,  you  may  pass." 

The  covering  of  the  waggon  caught  in  the  hedge  as  the 
waggon  turned  in ;  and  as  the  sacking  was  drawn  back, 
some  of  the  packages  were  disturbed — a  cheese  was  just 
rolling  off  on  the  side  next  Lord  Colambre;  he  stopped  it 
from  falling;  the  direction  caught  his  quick  eye — "To 
Ralph  Reynolds,  Esq." — ''  Toddrington''  scratched  out; 
"Red  Lion  Square,  London,"  written  in  another  hand 
below. 

"Now  I  have  found  him!  And  surely  I  know  that 
hand!"  said  Lord  Colambre  to  himself,  looking  more 
closely  at  the  direction. 

The  original  direction  was  certainly  in  a  handwriting 
well  known  to  him — it  was  Lady  Dashfort's. 

"That  there  cheese,  that  you're  looking  at  so  cur'ously," 
said  the  waggoner,  "has  been  a  great  traveller;  for  it  came 
all  the  way  down  from  Lon'on,  and  now  it's  going  all  the 
way  up  again  back,  on  account  of  not  finding  the  gentle- 
man at  home ;  and  the  man  that  booked  it  told  me  as  how 
it  came  from  foreign  parts." 

Lord  Colambre  took  down  the  direction,  tossed  the 
honest  waggoner  a  guinea,  wished  him  good  night,  passed, 
and  went  on.  As  soon  as  he  could,  he  turned  into  the 
London  road — at  the  first  town,  got  a  place  in  the  mail — 
reached    London — saw   his    father — went   directly    to   his 

251 


THE  ABSENTEE 

friend,  Count  O'Halloran,  who  was  delighted  when  he  be- 
held the  packet.  Lord  Colambre  was  extremely  eager  to 
go  immediately  to  old  Reynolds,  fatigued  as  he  was;  for  he 
had  travelled  night  and  day,  and  had  scarcely  allowed  him- 
self, mind  or  body,  one  moment's  repose. 

"Heroes  must  sleep,  and  lovers  too;  or  they  soon  will 
cease  to  be  heroes  or  lovers!"  said  the  count.  "Rest, 
rest,  perturbed  spirit !  this  night ;  and  to-morrow  morning 
we'll  finish  the  adventure  in  Red  Lion  Square,  or  I  will 
accompany  you  when  and  where  you  will ;  if  necessary,  to 
earth's  remotest  bounds." 

The  next  morning  Lord  Colambre  went  to  breakfast 
with  the  count.  The  count,  who  was  not  in  love,  was  not 
up,  for  our  hero  was  half  an  hour  earlier  than  the  time 
appointed.  The  old  servant  Alick,  who  had  attended  his 
master  to  England,  was  very  glad  to  see  Lord  Colambre 
again,  and,  showing  him  into  the  breakfast  parlour,  could 
not  help  saying,  in  defence  of  his  master's  punctuality — 

"Your  clocks,  I  suppose,  my  lord,  are  half  an  hour 
faster  than  ours;  my  master  will  be  ready  to  the  moment." 

The  count  soon  appeared — breakfast  was  soon  over,  and 
the  carriage  at  the  door;  for  the  count  sympathised  in  his 
young  friend's  impatience.  As  they  were  setting  out,  the 
count's  large  Irish  dog  pushed  out  of  the  house  door  to 
follow  them ;  and  his  master  would  have  forbidden  him, 
but  Lord  Colambre  begged  that  he  might  be  permitted  to 
accompany  them ;  for  his  lordship  recollected  the  old  wo- 
man's having  mentioned  that  Mr.  Reynolds  was  fond  of 
dogs. 

They  arrived  in  Red  Lion  Square,  found  the  house  of 
Mr.  Reynolds,  and,  contrary  to  the  count's  prognostics, 
found  the  old  gentleman  up,  and  they  saw  him  in  his  red 
night-cap  at  his  parlour  window.  After  some  minutes' 
running  backwards  and  forwards  of  a  boy  in  the  passage, 
and  two  or  three  peeps  taken  over  the  blinds  by  the  old 
gentleman,  they  were  admitted. 

The  boy  could  not  master  their  names;  so  they  were 
obliged  reciprocally  to  announce  themselves — "Count 
O'Halloran  and  Lord  Colambre."     The  names  seemed  to 

252 


THE  ABSENTEE 

make  no  impression  on  the  old  gentleman ;  but  he  deliber- 
ately looked  at  the  count  and  his  lordship,  as  if  studying 
what  rather  than  who  they  were.  In  spite  of  the  red 
night-cap,  and  a  flowered  dressing-gown,  Mr.  Reynolds 
looked  like  a  gentleman,  an  odd  gentleman — but  still  a 
gentleman. 

As  Count  O'Halloran  came  into  the  room,  and  as  his 
large  dog  attempted  to  follow,  the  count's  voice  expressed  : 
"Say,  shall  I  let  him  in,  or  shut  the  door?" 

"Oh,  let  him  in,  by  all  means,  sir,  if  you  please!  I  am 
fond  of  dogs;  and  a  finer  one  I  never  saw;  pray,  gentle- 
men, be  seated,"  said  he — a  portion  of  the  complacency 
inspired  by  the  sight  of  the  dog,  diffusing  itself  over  his 
manner  towards  the  master  of  so  fine  an  animal,  and  even 
extending  to  the  master's  companion,  though  in  an  inferior 
degree.  Whilst  Mr.  Reynolds  stroked  the  dog,  the  count 
told  him  that  "the  dog  was  of  a  curious  breed,  now  almost 
extinct — the  Irish  greyhound,  of  which  only  one  noble- 
man in  Ireland,  it  is  said,  has  now  a  few  of  the  species  re- 
maining in  his  possession Now,  lie  down,  Hannibal," 

said  the  count.  "Mr.  Reynolds,  we  have  taken  the 
liberty,  though  strangers,  of  waiting  upon  you " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  interrupted  Mr.  Reynolds; 
"but  did  I  understand  you  rightly,  that  a  few  of  the  same 
species  are  still  to  be  had  from  one  nobleman  in  Ireland? 
Pray,  what  is  his  name?"  said  he,  taking  out  his  pencil. 

The  count  wrote  the  name  for  him,  but  observed,  that 
"he  had  asserted  only  that  a  few  of  these  dogs  remained 
in  the  possession  of  that  nobleman ;  he  could  not  answer 
for  it  that  they  were  to  be  had.'' 

"Oh,  I  have  ways  and  means,"  said  old  Reynolds;  and, 
rapping  his  snufT-box,  and  talking,  as  it  was  his  custom, 
aloud  to  himself,  "Lady  Dashfort  knows  all  those  Irish 
lords ;  she  shall  get  one  for  me — ay !  ay  !  " 

Count  O'Halloran  replied,  as  if  the  words  had  been 
addressed  to  him — 

"Lady  Dashfort  is  in  England." 

"I  know  it,  sir;  she  is  in  London,"  said  Mr.  Reynolds, 
hastily.     "What  do  you  know  of  her?" 

253 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"I  know,  sir,  that  she  is  not  likely  to  return  to  Ireland, 
and  that  I  am ;  and  so  is  my  young  friend  here ;  and  if  the 
thing  can  be  accomplished,  we  will  get  it  done  for  you." 

Lord  Colambre  joined  in  this  promise,  and  added  that, 
"if  the  dog  could  be  obtained,  he  would  undertake  to  have 
him  safely  sent  over  to  England." 

"Sir — gentlemen!  I'm  much  obliged;  that  is,  when  you 
have  done  the  thing  I  shall  be  much  obliged.  But,  maybe, 
you  are  only  making  me  civil  speeches!  " 

' '  Of  that,  sir, ' '  said  the  count,  smiling  with  much  temper, 
"your  own  sagacity  and  knowledge  of  the  world  must 
enable  you  to  judge." 

"For  my  own  part,  I  can  only  say,"  cried  Lord  Co- 
lambre, "that  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  being  reproached 
with  saying  one  thing  and  meaning  another." 

"Hot!  I  see,"  said  old  Reynolds,  nodding,  as  he  looked 
at  Lord  Colambre.  "Cool!"  added  he,  nodding  at  the 
count.  ' '  But  a  time  for  everything ;  I  was  hot  once — both 
answers  good,  for  their  ages." 

This  speech  Lord  Colambre  and  the  count  tacitly  agreed 
to  consider  as  another  apart,  which  they  were  not  to  hear, 
or  seem  to  hear.  The  count  began  again  on  the  business 
of  their  visit,  as  he  saw  that  Lord  Colambre  was  boiling 
with  impatience,  and  feared  that  he  should  boil  over,  and 
spoil  all.     The  count  commenced  with — 

"Mr.  Reynolds,  your  name  sounds  to  me  like  the  name 
of  a  friend;  for  I  had. once  a  friend  of  that  name;  I  had 
once  the  pleasure  (and  a  very  great  pleasure  it  was  to  me) 
to  be  intimately  acquainted  abroad,  on  the  Continent,  with 
a  very  amiable  and  gallant  youth — your  son!  " 

"Take  care,  sir,"  said  the  old  man,  starting  up  from  his 
chair,  and  instantly  sinking  down  again, — "take  care! 
Don't  mention  him  to  me — unless  you  would  strike  me 
dead  on  the  spot!  " 

The  convulsed  motions  of  his  fingers  and  face  worked 
for  some  moments ;  whilst  the  count  and  Lord  Colambre, 
much  shocked  and  alarmed,  stood  in  silence. 

The  convulsed  motions  ceased ;  and  the  old  man  unbut- 
toned his  waistcoat,  as  if  to  relieve  some  sense  of  expres- 

254 


THE  ABSENTEE 

sion ;  uncovered  his  grey  hairs;  and,  after  leaning  back  to 
rest  himself,  with  his  eyes  fixed,  and  in  reverie  for  a  few 
moments,  he  sat  upright  again  in  his  chair,  and  exclaimed, 
as  he  looked  round — 

"Son! — Did  not  somebody  say  that  word?  Who  is  so 
cruel  to  say  that  word  before  me?  Nobody  has  ever 
spoken  of  him  to  me — but  once,  since  his  death !  Do  you 
know,  sir,"  said  he,  fixing  his  eyes  on  Count  O'Halloran, 
and  laying  his  cold  hand  on  him,  "do  you  know  where  he 
was  buried,  I  ask  you,  sir?  do  you  remember  how  he 
died?" 

"Too  well!  too  well !  "  cried  the  count,  so  much  affected 
as  to  be  scarcely  able  to  pronounce  the  words;  "he  died  in 
my  arms;  I  buried  him  myself!  " 

"Impossible!  "  cried  Mr.  Reynolds.  "Why  do  you  say 
so,  sir?"  said  he,  studying  the  count's  face  with  a  sort  of 
bewildered  earnestness.  "Impossible!  His  body  was  sent 
over  to  me  in  a  lead  coffin ;  and  I  saw  it — and  I  was  asked 
— and  I  answered,  'in  the  family  vault.'  But  the  shock  is 
over,"  said  he;  "and,  gentlemen,  if  the  business  of  your 
visit  relates  to  that  subject,  I  trust  I  am  now  sufficiently 
composed  to  attend  to  you.  Indeed,  I  ought  to  be  pre- 
pared; for  I  had  reason,  for  years,  to  expect  the  stroke; 
and  yet,  when  it  came,  it  seemed  sudden ! — it  stunned  me 
— put  an  end  to  all  my  worldly  prospects — left  me  child- 
less, without  a  single  descendant  or  relation  near  enough 
to  be  dear  to  me!     I  am  an  insulated  being!  " 

"No,  sir,  you  are  not  an  insulated  being,"  said  Lord 
Colambre;  "you  have  a  near  relation,  who  will,  who  must 
be  dear  to  you  ;  who  will  make  you  amends  for  all  you  have 
lost,  all  you  have  suffered — who  will  bring  peace  and  joy 
to  your  heart.     You  have  a  grand-daughter." 

"No,  sir;  I  have  no  grand-daughter,"  said  old  Reynolds, 
his  face  and  whole  form  becoming  rigid  with  the  expression 
of  obstinacy.  "Rather  have  no  descendant  than  be  forced 
to  acknowledge  an  illegitimate  child." 

"My  lord,  I  entreat  as  a  friend — I  command  you  to  be 
patient,"  said  the  count,  who  saw  Lord  Colambre's  indig- 
nation suddenly  rise. 

255 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"So,  then,  this  is  the  purpose  of  your  visit,"  continued 
old  Reynolds;  "and  you  come  from  my  enemies,  from  the 
St.  Omars,  and  you  are  in  league  with  them,"  continued 
old  Reynolds;  "and  all  this  time  it  is  of  my  eldest  son  you 
have  been  talking." 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  count;  "of  Captain  Reynolds, 
who  fell  in  battle,  in  the  Austrian  service,  about  nineteen 
years  ago — a  more  gallant  and  amiable  youth  never  lived." 

Pleasure  revived  through  the  dull  look  of  obstinacy  in 
the  father's  eyes. 

"He  was,  as  you  say,  sir,  a  gallant,  an  amiable  youth, 
once — and  he  was  my  pride,  and  I  loved  him,  too,  once — 
but  did  aot  you  know  I  had  another?  " 

"No,  sir,  we  did  not — we  are,  you  may  perceive,  totally 
ignorant  of  your  family  and  of  your  affairs — we  have  no 
connexion  whatever  or  knowledge  of  any  of  the  St.  Omars. 

"I  detest  the  sound  of  the  name,"  cried  Lord  Colambre. 

"Oh,  good!  good! — Well!  well!  I  beg  your  pardon, 
gentlemen,  a  thousand  times — I  am  a  hasty,  very  hasty 
old  man ;  but  I  have  been  harassed,  persecuted,  hunted 
by  wretches,  who  got  a  scent  of  my  gold ;  often  in  my  rage 
I  longed  to  throw  my  treasure-bags  to  my  pursuers,  and 
bid  them  leave  me  to  die  in  peace.  You  have  feelings,  I 
see,  both  of  you,  gentlemen;  excuse  me,  and  bear  with 
my  temper." 

"Bear  with  you  !  Much  enforced,  the  best  tempers  will 
emit  a  hasty  spark,"  said  the  count,  looking  at  Lord  Co- 
lambre, who  was  now  cool  again  ;  and  who,  with  a  counten- 
ance full  of  compassion,  sat  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
poor — no,  not  the  poor,  but  the  unhappy  old  man. 

"Yes,  I  had  another  son,"  continued  Mr.  Reynolds, 
"and  on  him  all  my  affections  concentrated  when  I  lost  my 
eldest,  and  for  him  I  desired  to  preserve  the  estate  which 
his  mother  brought  into  my  family.  Since  you  know  no- 
thing of  my  affairs,  let  me  explain  to  you ;  that  estate  was 
so  settled,  that  it  would  have  gone  to  the  child,  even  the 
daughter  of  my  eldest  son,  if  there  had  been  a  legitimate 
child.  But  I  knew  there  was  no  marriage,  and  I  held  out 
firm  to  my  opinion.      'If  there  was  a  marriage,'  said  I, 

256 


THE  ABSENTEE 

'show  me  the  marriage  certificate,  and  I  will  acknowledge 
the  marriage,  and  acknowledge  the  child  ' ;  but  they  could 
not,  and  I  knew  they  could  not ;  and  I  kept  the  estate  for 
my  darling  boy,"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  with  the  exulta- 
tion of  successful  positiveness  again  appearing  strong  in  his 
physiognomy;  but  suddenly  changing  and  relaxing,  his 
countenance  fell,  and  he  added,  "But  now  I  have  no  darl- 
ing boy.  What  use  all! — all  must  go  to  the  heir-at-law,  or 
I  must  will  it  to  a  stranger — a  lady  of  quality,  who  has  just 
found  out  she  is  my  relation — God  knows  how — I'm  no 
genealogist — and  sends  me  Irish  cheese  and  Iceland  moss, 
for  my  breakfast,  and  her  waiting-gentlewoman  to  namby- 
pamby  me.  Oh,  I'm  sick  of  it  all — see  through  it — wish  I 
was  blind — wish  I  had  a  hiding-place,  where  flatterers  could 
not  find  me — pursued,  chased — must  change  my  lodgings 
again  to-morrow — will,  will — I  beg  your  pardon,  gentle- 
men, again;  you  were  going  to  tell  me,  sir,  something 
more  of  my  eldest  son ;  and  how  I  was  led  away  from  the 
subject,  I  don't  know;  but  I  meant  only  to  have  assured 
you  that  his  memory  was  dear  to  me,  till  I  was  so  tor- 
mented about  that  unfortunate  affair  of  his  pretended 
marriage,  that  at  length  I  hated  to  hear  him  named ;  but 
the  heir-at-law,  at  last,  will  triumph  over  me." 

"No,  my  good  sir,  not  if  you  triumph  over  yourself,  and 
do  justice,"  cried  Lord  Colambre;  "if  you  listen  to  the 
truth,  which  my  friend  will  tell  you,  and  if  you  will  read 
and  believe  the  confirmation  of  it,  under  your  son's  own 
hand,  in  this  packet." 

"His  own  hand  indeed  !  His  seal — unbroken.  But  how 
— when — where — why  was  it  kept  so  long,  and  how  came  it 
into  your  hands? " 

Count  O'Halloran  told  Mr.  Reynolds  that  the  packet 
had  been  given  to  him  by  Captain  Reynolds  on  his  death- 
bed ;  related  the  dying  acknowledgment  which  Captain 
Reynolds  had  made  of  his  marriage ;  and  gave  an  account 
of  the  delivery  of  the  packet  to  the  ambassador,  who  had 
promised  to  transmit  it  faithfully.  Lord  Colambre  told 
the  manner  in  which  it  had  been  mislaid,  and  at  last  re- 
covered from  among  the  deceased  ambassador's  papers. 
X7  257 


THE  ABSENTEE 

The  father  still  gazed  at  the  direction,  and  re-examined 
the  seals. 

"My  son's  handwriting — my  son's  seals!  But  where  is 
the  certificate  of  the  marriage?"    repeated  he;  "if  it  is 

within-side  of  this  packet,  I  have  done  great  in but  I 

am  convinced  it  never  was  a  marriage.  Yet  I  wish  now  it 
could  be  proved — only,  in  that  case,  I  have  for  years  done 
great " 

"Won't  you  open  the  packet,  sir?  "  said  Lord  Colambre. 
Mr.  Reynolds  looked  up  at  him  with  a  look  that  said,  "I 
don't  clearly  know  what  interest  you  have  in  all  this."  But, 
unable  to  speak,  and  his  hands  trembling  so  that  he  could 
scarcely  break  the  seals,  he  tore  off  the  cover,  laid  the 
papers  before  him,  sat  down,  and  took  breath.  Lord  Co- 
lambre, however  impatient,  had  now  too  much  humanity 
to  hurry  the  old  gentleman  ;  he  only  ran  for  the  spectacles, 
which  he  espied  on  the  chimney-piece,  rubbed  them  bright, 
and  held  them  ready.  Mr.  Reynolds  stretched  his  hand 
out  for  them,  put  them  on,  and  the  first  paper  he  opened 
was  the  certificate  of  the  marriage ;  he  read  it  aloud,  and, 
putting  it  down,  said — 

"Now  I  acknowledge  the  marriage.  I  always  said,  if 
there  is  a  marriage  there  must  be  a  certificate.  And  you 
see  now  there  is  a  certificate — I  acknowledge  the  marriage. ' ' 

"And  now,"  cried  Lord  Colambre,  "I  am  happy,  posi- 
tively happy.  Acknowledge  your  grand-daughter,  sir — 
acknowledge  Miss  Nugent." 

"Acknowledge  who,  sir?" 

'■"Acknowledge  Miss  R^eynolds — your  grand-daughter;  I 
ask  no  more — do  what  you  will  with  your  fortune." 

"Oh,  now  I  understand — I  begin  to  understand — this 
young  gentleman  is  in  love — but  where  is  my  grand- 
daughter?— how  shall  I  know  she  is  my  grand-daughter? 
I  have  not  heard  of  her  since  she  was  an  infant — I  forgot 
her  existence — I  have  done  her  great  injustice." 

"She  knows  nothing  of  it,  sir,"  said  Lord  Colambre, 
who  now  entered  into  a  full  explanation  of  Miss  Nugent's 
history,  and  of  her  connexion  with  his  family,  and  of  his 
own  attachment  to  her ;  concluding  the  whole  by  assuring 

258 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Mr.  Reynolds  that  his  grand-daughter  had  every  virtue 
under  heaven.  "And  as  to  your  fortune,  sir,  I  know  that 
she  will,  as  I  do,  say " 

"Nomatter  what  she  will  say,"  interrupted  old  Reynolds; 
"where  is  she?  When  I  see  her,  I  shall  hear  what  she  says. 
Tell  me  where  she  is — let  me  see  her.  I  long  to  see  whether 
there  is  any  likeness  to  her  poor  father.  Where  is  she? 
Let  me  see  her  immediately." 

"She  is  one  hundred  and  sixty  miles  ofT,  sir,  at  Buxton." 

"Well,  my  lord,  and  what  is  a  hundred  and  sixty  miles? 
I  suppose  you  think  I  can't  stir  from  my  chair,  but  you 
are  mistaken.  I  think  nothing  of  a  journey  of  a  hundred 
and  sixty  miles — I'm  ready  to  set  off  to-morrow — this 
instant." 

Lord  Colambre  said,  that  he  was  sure  Miss  Reynolds 
would  obey  her  grandfather's  slightest  summons,  as  it  was 
her  duty  to  do,  and  would  be  with  him  as  soon  as  possible, 
if  this  would  be  more  agreeable  to  him.  "I  will  write  to 
her  instantly,"  said  his  lordship,  "if  you  will  commission 
me." 

"No,  my  lord,  I  do  not  commission — I  will  go — I  think 
nothing,  I  say,  of  a  journey  of  a  hundred  and  sixty  miles 
— I'll  go — and  set  out  to-morrow  morning." 

Lord  Colambre  and  the  count,  perfectly  satisfied  with 
the  result  of  their  visit,  now  thought  it  best  to  leave  old 
Reynolds  at  liberty  to  rest  himself,  after  so  many  strong 
and  varied  feelings.  They  paid  their  parting  compliments, 
settled  the  time  for  the  next  day's  journey,  and  were  just 
going  to  quit  the  room  when  Lord  Colambre  heard  in  the 
passage  a  well-known  voice — the  voice  of  Mrs.  Petito. 

"Oh  no,  my  compliments,  and  my  Lady  Dashfort's  best 
compliments,  and  I  will  call  again." 

"No,  no,"  cried  old  Reynolds,  pulling  his  bell;  "I'll 
have  no  calling  again— I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do !  Let  her  in 
now,  and  I'll  see  her— Jack!  let  in  that  woman  now  or 
never." 

"The  lady's  gone,  sir,  out  of  the  street-door." 

"After  her,  then — now  or  never,  tell  her." 

"Sir,  she  was  in  a  hackney  coach." 

259 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Old  Reynolds  jumped  up,  and  went  to  the  window  him- 
self, and,  seeing  the  hackney  coachman  just  turning,  beck- 
oned at  the  window,  and  Mrs.  Petito  was  set  down  again, 
and  ushered  in  by  Jack,  who  announced  her  as — 

"The  lady,  sir."  The  only  lady  he  had  seen  in  that 
house. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Reynolds,  I'm  so  obliged  to  you  for  let- 
ting me  in,"  cried  Mrs.  Petito,  adjusting  her  shawl  in  the 
passage,  and  speaking  in  a  voice  and  manner  well  mimicked 
after  her  betters.  "You  are  so  very  good  and  kind,  and 
I  am  so  much  obliged  to  you." 

"You  are  not  obliged  to  me,  and  I  am  neither  good  nor 
kind,"  said  old  Reynolds. 

"You  strange  man,"  said  Mrs.  Petito,  advancing  grace- 
ful in  shawl  drapery;  but  she  stopped  short.  "My  Lord 
Colambre  and  Count  O'Halloran,  as  I  hope  to  be  saved !  " 

"I  did  not  know  Mrs.  Petito  was  an  acquaintance  of 
yours,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Reynolds,  smiling  shrewdly. 

Count  O'Halloran  was  too  polite  to  deny  his  acquaint- 
ance with  a  lady  who  challenged  it  by  thus  naming  him ; 
but  he  had  not  the  slightest  recollection  of  her,  though  it 
seems  he  had  met  her  on  the  stairs  when  he  visited  Lady 
Dashfort  at  Killpatrickstown.  Lord  Colambre  was  "in- 
deed undeniably  an  old  acquaintance  "  ;  and  as  soon  as  she 
had  recovered  from  her  first  natural  start  and  vulgar  ex- 
clamation, she  with  very  easy  familiarity  hoped  "My  Lady 
Clonbrony,  and  my  lord,  and  Miss  Nugent,  and  all  her 
friends  in  the  family,  were  well";  and  said,  "she  did  not 
know  whether  she  was  to  congratulate  his  lordship  or  not 
upon  Miss  Broadhurst,  my  Lady  Berryl's  marriage,  but 
she  should  soon  have  to  hope  for  his  lordship's  congratula- 
tions for  another  marriage  in  her  present  family — Lady 
Isabel  to  Colonel  Heathcock,  who  has  come  in  for  a  large 
portion,  and  they  are  buying  the  wedding  clothes — sights 
of  clothes — and  the  di'monds,  this  day;  and  Lady  Dash- 
fort  and  my  Lady  Isabel  sent  me  especially,  sir,  to  you, 
Mr.  Reynolds,  and  to  tell  you,  sir,  before  anybody  else; 
and  to  hope  the  cheese  co7ne  safe  up  again  at  last ;  and  to 
ask  whether  the  Iceland  moss  agrees  with  your  chocolate, 

260 


THE  ABSENTEE 

and  is  palatable;  it's  the  most  diluent  thing  upon  the  uni- 
versal earth,  and  the  most  tonic  and  fashionable — the 
Dutches  of  Torcaster  takes  it  always  for  breakfast,  and 
Lady  St.  James  too  is  quite  a  convert,  and  I  hear  the 
Duke  of  V takes  it  too." 

"And  the  devil  may  take  it  too,  for  anything  that  I 
care,"  said  old  Reynolds. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  dear  sir!  you  are  so  refractory  a  patient." 

"I  am  no  patient  at  all,  ma'am,  and  have  no  patience 
either;  I  am  as  well  as  you  are,  or  my  Lady  Dashfort 
either,  and  hope,  God  willing,  long  to  continue  so." 

Mrs.  Petito  smiled  aside  at  Lord  Colambre,  to  mark  her 
perception  of  the  man's  strangeness.  Then,  in  a  cajoling 
voice,  addressing  herself  to  the  old  gentleman — 

"Long,  long,  I  hope,  to  continue  so,  if  Heaven  grants 
my  daily  and  nightly  prayers,  and  my  Lady  Dashfort's 
also.  So,  Mr.  Reynolds,  if  the  ladies'  prayers  are  of  any 
avail,  you  ought  to  be  surely,  and  I  suppose  ladies'  prayers 
have  the  precedency  in  efficacy.  But  it  was  not  of  prayers 
and  deathbed  affairs  I  came  commissioned  to  treat — not  of 
burials,  which  Heaven  above  forbid,  but  of  weddings  my 
diplomacy  was  to  speak ;  and  to  premise  my  Lady  Dash- 
fort  would  have  come  herself  in  her  carriage,  but  is  hurried 
out  of  her  senses,  and  my  Lady  Isabel  could  not  in  proper 
modesty ;  so  they  sent  me  as  their  double,  to  hope  you,  my 
dear  Mr.  Reynolds,  who  is  one  of  the  family  relations,  will 
honour  the  wedding  with  your  presence." 

"It  would  be  no  honour,  and  they  know  that  as  well  as 
I  do,"  said  the  intractable  Mr.  Reynolds.  "It  will  be  no 
advantage,  either;  but  that  they  do  not  know  as  well  as  I 
do.  Mrs.  Petito,  to  save  you  and  your  lady  all  trouble 
about  me  in  future,  please  to  let  my  Lady  Dashfort  know 
that  I  have  just  received  and  read  the  certificate  of  my  son 
Captain  Reynolds's  marriage  with  Miss  St.  Omar.  I  have 
acknowledged  the  marriage.  Better  late  than  never;  and 
to-morrow  morning,  God  willing,  shall  set  out  with  this 
young  nobleman  for  Buxton,  where  I  hope  to  see,  and  in- 
tend publicly  to  acknowledge,  my  grand-daughter — pro- 
vided she  will  acknowledge  me." 

261 


THE  ABSENTEE 

" Crimini /  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Petito,  "what  new  turns 
are  here !  Well,  sir,  I  shall  tell  my  lady  of  the  metamor- 
phoses that  have  taken  place,  though  by  what  magic  (as  I 
have  not  the  honour  to  deal  in  the  black  art)  I  can't  guess. 
But,  since  it  seems  annoying  and  inopportune,  I  shall  take 
my  finale,  and  shall  thus  have  a  verbal  P.P.C. — as  you  are 
leaving  town,  it  seems,  for  Buxton  so  early  in  the  morning. 
My  Lord  Colambre,  if  I  see  rightly  into  a  millstone,  as  I 
hope  and  believe  I  do  on  the  present  occasion,  I  have  to 
congratulate  your  lordship  (haven't  I?)  upon  something 
like  a  succession,  or  a  windfall,  in  this  denewment.  And  I 
beg  you'll  make  my  humble  respects  acceptable  to  the  ci- 
devant  Miss  Grace  Nugent  that  was;  and  I  won't  derrogate 
her  by  any  other  name  in  the  interregnum,  as  I  am  per- 
suaded it  will  only  be  a  temporary  name,  scarce  worth  as- 
suming, except  for  the  honour  of  the  public  adoption  ;  and 
that  will,  I'm  confident,  be  soon  exchanged  for  a  viscount's 
title,  or  I  have  no  sagacity  nor  sympathy.  I  hope  I  don't 
(pray  don't  let  me)  put  you  to  the  blush,  my  lord." 

Lord  Colambre  would  not  have  let  her,  if  he  could  have 
helped  it. 

"Count  O'Halloran,  your  most  obedient!  I  had  the 
honour  of  meeting  you  at  Killpatrickstown,"  said  Mrs. 
Petito,  backing  to  the  door,  and  twitching  her  shawl.  She 
stumbled,  nearly  fell  down,  over  the  large  dog — caught  by 
the  door,  and  recovered  herself.  Hannibal  rose  and  shook 
his  ears.  "Poor  fellow!  you  are  of  my  acquaintance  too," 
She  would  have  stroked  his  head ;  but  Hannibal  walked  off 
indignant,  and  so  did  she. 

Thus  ended  certain  hopes ;  for  Mrs.  Petito  had  conceived 
that  her  diplomacy  might  be  turned  to  account ;  that  in  her 
character  of  an  ambassadress,  as  Lady  Dashfort's  double, 
by  the  aid  of  Iceland  moss  in  chocolate,  flattery  properly 
administered ;  that,  by  bearing  with  all  her  dear  Mr. 
Reynolds's  oddnesses  and  roughnesses,  she  might  in  time — 
that  is  to  say,  before  he  made  a  new  will — become  his  dear 
Mrs.  Petito ;  or  (for  stranger  things  have  happened  and  do 
happen  every  day)  his  dear  Mrs.  Reynolds!  Mrs.  Petito, 
however,  was  good  at  a  retreat ;  and  she  flattered  herself 

262 


THE  ABSENTEE 

that  at  least  nothing  of  this  underplot  had  appeared ;  and 
at  all  events  she  secured  by  her  services  in  this  embassy, 
the  long-looked-for  object  of  her  ambition,  Lady  Dashfort's 
scarlet  velvet  gown — "not  yet  a  thread  the  worse  for  the 
wear ! ' '  One  cordial  look  at  this  comforted  her  for  the  loss 
of  her  expected  octogciiairc  ;  and  she  proceeded  to  discomfit 
her  lady,  by  repeating  the  message  with  which  strange  old 
Mr.  Reynolds  had  charged  her. — So  ended  all  Lady  Dash- 
fort's  hopes  of  his  fortune. 

Since  the  death  of  his  youngest  son,  she  had  been  inde- 
fatigable in  her  attentions,  and  sanguine  in  her  hopes;  the 
disappointment  affected  both  her  interest  and  her  pride,  as 
an  intrigante.  It  was  necessary,  however,  to  keep  her 
feelings  to  herself;  for  if  Heathcock  should  hear  anything 
of  the  matter  before  the  articles  were  signed,  he  might 
"be  off!  " — so  she  put  him  and  Lady  Isabel  into  her  coach 
directly — drove  to  Gray's,  to  make  sure  at  all  events  of  the 
jewels. 

In  the  meantime  Count  O'Halloran  and  Lord  Colambre, 
delighted  with  the  result  of  their  visit,  took  leave  of  Mr. 
Reynolds,  after  having  arranged  the  journey,  and  appointed 
the  hour  for  setting  off  the  next  day.  Lord  Colambre  pro- 
posed to  call  upon  Mr.  Reynolds  in  the  evening,  and  in- 
troduce his  father.  Lord  Clonbrony;  but  Mr.  Reynolds 
said — 

"No,  no!  I'm  not  ceremonious,  I  have  given  you 
proofs  enough  of  that,  I  think,  in  the  short  time  we've 
been  already  acquainted.  Time  enough  to  introduce  your 
father  to  me  when  we  are  in  a  carriage,  going  our  journey; 
then  we  can  talk,  and  get  acquainted ;  but  merely  to  come 
this  evening  in  a  hurry,  and  say,  'Lord  Clonbrony,  Mr. 
Reynolds; — Mr.  Reynolds,  Lord  Clonbrony,'  and  then  bob 
our  two  heads  at  one  another,  and  scrape  one  foot  back, 
and  away ! — where's  the  use  of  that  nonsense  at  my  time 
of  life,  or  at  any  time  of  life?     No,  no!  we  have  enough 

to  do  without  that,  I  daresay. Good  morning  to  you, 

Count  O'Halloran!  I  thank  you  heartily.  From  the  first 
moment  I  saw  you,  I  liked  you  ;  lucky  too  that  you  brought 
your  dog  with  you !     'Twas  Hannibal  made  me  first  let 

263 


THE  ABSENTEE 

you  in;  I  saw  him  over  the  top  of  the  blind. — Hannibal, 
my  good  fellow!  I'm  more  obliged  to  you  than  you  can 
guess." 

"So  are  we  all,"  said  Lord  Colambre. 

Hannibal  was  well  patted,  and  then  they  parted.  In  re- 
turning home  they  met  Sir  James  Brooke, 

"I  told  you,"  said  Sir  James,  "I  should  be  in  London 
almost  as  soon  as  you.     Have  you  found  old  Reynolds?" 

"Just  come  from  him." 

"How  does  your  business  prosper?  I  hope  as  well  as 
mine." 

A  history  of  all  that  had  passed  up  to  the  present  mo- 
ment was  given,  and  hearty  congratulations  received. 

"Where  are  you  going  now,  Sir  James? — cannot  you 
come  with  us? "  said  Lord  Colambre  and  the  count. 

"Impossible,"  replied  Sir  James; — "but,  perhaps,  you 
can  come  with  me — I'm  going  to  Gray's,  to  give  some  old 
family  diamonds,  either  to  be  new  set  or  exchanged. 
Count  O'Halloran,  I  know  you  are  a  judge  of  these  things ; 
pray,  come  and  give  me  your  opinion." 

"Better  consult  your  bride  elect !  "  said  the  count. 

"No;  she  knows  little  of  the  matter — and  cares  less," 
replied  Sir  James. 

"Not  so  this  bride  elect,  or  I  mistake  her  much,"  said 
the  count,  as  they  passed  by  the  window  and  saw  Lady 
Isabel,  who,  with  Lady  Dashfort,  had  been  holding  con- 
sultation deep  with  the  jeweller;  and  Heathcock,  playing 
personnagc  muct. 

Lady  Dashfort,  who  had  always,  as  old  Reynolds  ex- 
pressed it,  "her  head  upon  her  shoulders" — presence  of 
mind  where  her  interests  were  concerned — ran  to  the  door 
before  the  count  and  Lord  Colambre  could  enter,  giving  a 
hand  to  each — as  if  they  had  all  parted  the  best  friends  in 
the  world. 

"How  do?  how  do? — Give  you  joy!  give  me  joy!  and 
all  that.  But  mind!  not  a  word,"  said  she,  laying  her 
finger  upon  her  lips — "not  a  word  before  Heathcock  of 
old  Reynolds,  or  of  the  best  part  of  the  old  fool, — his 
fortune!  " 

264 


THE  ABSENTEE 

The  gentlemen  bowed,  in  sign  of  submission  to  her  lady 
ship's  commands ;  and  comprehended  that  she  feared  Heath- 
cock  might  be  off,  if  the  best  part  of  his  bride  (her  fortune, 
or  her  expectations)  were  lowered  in  value  or  in  prospect. 

"How  low  is  she  reduced,"  whispered  Lord  Colambre, 
"when  such  a  husband  is  thought  a  prize — and  to  be  se- 
cured by  a  manoeuvre!  "     He  sighed. 

"Spare  that  generous  sigh!  "  said  Sir  James  Brooke;  "it 
is  wasted," 

Lady  Isabel,  as  they  approached,  turned  from  a  mirror, 
at  which  she  was  trying  on  a  diamond  crescent.  Her  face 
clouded  at  sight  of  Count  O'Halloran  and  Lord  Colambre, 
and  grew  dark  as  hatred  when  she  saw  Sir  James  Brooke. 
She  walked  away  to  the  farther  end  of  the  shop,  and  asked 
one  of  the  shopmen  the  price  of  a  diamond  necklace  which 
lay  upon  the  counter. 

The  man  said,  "He  really  did  not  know;  it  belonged  to 
Lady  Oranmore;  it  had  just  been  new  set  for  one  of  her 
ladyship's  daughters,  who  is  going  to  be  married  to  Sir 
James  Brooke — one  of  the  gentlemen,  my  lady,  who  are 
just  come  in." 

Then,  calling  to  his  master,  he  asked  him  the  price  of 
the  necklace ;  he  named  the  value,  which  was  considerable. 

"I  really  thought  Lady  Oranmore  and  her  daughters 
were  vastly  too  philosophical  to  think  of  diamonds,"  said 
Lady  Isabel  to  her  mother,  with  a  sort  of  sentimental 
sneer  in  her  voice  and  countenance.  "But  it  is  some  com- 
fort to  me  to  find,  in  these  pattern-women,  philosophy  and 
love  do  not  so  wholly  engross  the  heart,  that  they  'feel 
every  vanity  in  fondness  lost.' 

"  'Twould  be  difficult,  in  some  cases,"  thought  many 
present. 

"'Pon  honour,  di'monds  are  cursed  expensive  things,  I 
know!  "said  Heathcock.  "But,  be  that  as  it  may,"  whis- 
pered he  to  the  lady,  though  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by 
others,  "I've  laid  a  damned  round  wager,  that  no  woman's 
diamonds  married  this  winter,  under  a  countess,  in  Lon'on, 
shall  eclipse  Lady  Isabel  Heathcock's! — and  Mr.  Gray 
here's  to  be  judge." 

265 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Lady  Isabel  paid  for  this  promise  one  of  her  sweetest 
smiles;  with  one  of  thos^  smiles  which  she  had  formerly- 
bestowed  upon  Lord  Colambre,  and  which  he  had  once 
fancied  expressed  so  much  sensibility — such  discriminative 
and  delicate  application. 

Our  hero  felt  so  much  contempt,  that  he  never  wasted 
another  sigh  of  pity  for  her  degradation.  Lady  Dashfort 
came  up  to  him  as  he  was  standing  alone ;  and,  whilst  the 
count  and  Sir  James  were  settling  about  the  diamonds — 

"My  Lord  Colambre,"  said  she,  in  a  low  voice,  "I  know 
your  thoughts,  and  I  could  moralise  as  well  as  you,  if  I 
did  not  prefer  laughing — you  are  right  enough ;  and  so  am 
I,  and  so  is  Isabel;  we  are  all  right.  For  look  here:  wo- 
men have  not  always  the  liberty  of  choice,  and  therefore  they 
can't  be  expected  to  have  always  the  power  of  refusal." 

The  mother,  satisfied  with  her  convenient  optimism,  got 
into  her  carriage  with  her  daughter,  her  daughter's  dia- 
monds, and  her  precious  son-in-law,  her  daughter's  com- 
panion for  life. 

"The  more  I  see,"  said  Count  O'Halloran  to  Lord  Co- 
lambre, as  they  left  the  shop,  "the  more  I  find  reason  to 
congratulate  you  upon  your  escape,  my  dear  lord." 

"I  owe  it  not  to  my  own  wit  or  wisdom,"  said  Lord 
Colambre;  "but  much  to  love,  and  much  to  friendship," 
added  he,  turning  to  Sir  James  Brooke;  "here  was  the 
friend  who  early  warned  me  against  the  siren's  voice;  who, 
before  I  knew  the  Lady  Isabel,  told  me  what  I  have  since 
found  to  be  true,  that 

"  Two  passions  alternately  govern  her  fate — 
Her  business  is  love,  but  her  pleasure  is  hate." 

"That  is  dreadfully  severe,  Sir  James,"  said  Count 
O'Halloran;  "but  I  am  afraid  it  is  just." 

"I  am  sure  it  is  just,  or  I  would  not  have  said  it,"  replied 
Sir  James  Brooke.  ' '  For  the  foibles  of  the  sex,  I  hope,  I  have 
as  much  indulgence  as  any  man,  and  for  the  errors  of  pas- 
sion as  much  pity  ;  but  I  cannot  repress  the  indignation,  the 
abhorrence  I  feel  against  women,  cold  and  vain,  who  use 
their  wit  and  their  charms  only  to  make  others  miserable." 

266 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Lord  Colambrc  recollected  at  this  moment  Lady  Isabel's 
look  and  voice,  when  she  declared  that  "she  would  let  her 
little  finger  be  cut  off  to  purchase*  the  pleasure  of  inflicting 
on  Lady  de  Cresey,  for  one  hour,  the  torture  of  jealousy." 

"Perhaps,"  continued  Sir  James  Brooke,  "now  that  I 
am  going  to  marry  into  an  Irish  family,  I  may  feel,  with 
peculiar  energy,  disapprobation  of  this  mother  and  daughter 
on  another  account;  but  you.  Lord  Colambre,  will  do  me 
the  justice  to  recollect  that,  before  I  had  any  personal  in- 
terest in  the  country,  I  expressed,  as  a  general  friend  to 
Ireland,  antipathy  to  those  who  return  the  hospitality  they 
received  from  a  warm-hearted  people,  by  publicly  setting 
the  example  of  elegant  sentimental  hypocrisy,  or  daring 
disregard  of  decorum,  by  privately  endeavouring  to  destroy 
the  domestic  peace  of  families,  on  which,  at  last,  public  as 
well  as  private  virtue  and  happiness  depend.  I  do  rejoice, 
my  dear  Lord  Colambre,  to  hear  you  say  that  I  had  any 
share  in  saving  you  from  the  siren ;  and  now,  I  will  never 
speak  of  these  ladies  more.  I  am  sorry  you  cannot  stay  in 
town  to  see — but  why  should  I  be  sorry — we  shall  meet 
again,  I  trust,  and  I  shall  introduce  you;  and  you,  I  hope, 
will  introduce  me  to  a  very  different  charmer.  Farewell ! 
— you  have  my  warm  good  wishes  wherever  you  go." 

Sir  James  turned  off  quickly  to  the  street  in  which  Lady 
Oranmore  lived,  and  Lord  Colambre  had  not  time  to  tell 
him  that  he  knew  and  admired  his  intended  bride.  Count 
O'Halloran  promised  to  do  this  for  him.  "And  now," 
said  the  good  count,  "  I  am  to  take  leave  of  you ;  and  I  as- 
sure you  I  do  it  with  so  much  reluctance  that  nothing  less 
than  positive  engagements  to  stay  in  town  would  prevent 
me  from  setting  off  with  you  to-morrow;  but  I  shall  be 
soon,  very  soon,  at  liberty  to  return  to  Ireland;  and  Clon- 
brony  Castle,  if  you  will  give  me  leave,  I  will  see  before  I 
see  Halloran  Castle." 

Lord  Colambre  joyfully  thanked  his  friend  for  this 
promise. 

"Nay,  it  is  to  indulge  myself.  I  long  to  see  you  happy 
— long  to  behold  the  choice  of  such  a  heart  as  yours.  Pray 
do  not  steal  a  march  upon  me — let  me  know  in  time.     I 

267 


THE  ABSENTEE 

will   leave   everything — even    the    siege  of  for   your 

wedding.      But  I  trust  I  shall  be  in  time." 

"Assuredly  you  will,  my  dear  count;  if  ever  that  wed- 
ding  " 

"7/","  repeated  the  count. 

"7/","  repeated  Lord  Colambre.  "Obstacles  which, 
when  we  last  parted,  appeared  to  me  invincible,  prevented 
my  having  ever  even  attempted  to  make  an  impression  on 
the  heart  of  the  woman  I  love;  and  if  you  knew  her, 
count,  as  well  as  I  do,  you  would  know  that  her  love  could 
'not  unsought  be  won.' 

"Of  that  I  cannot  doubt,  or  she  would  not  be  your 
choice ;  but  when  her  love  is  sought,  we  have  every  reason 
to  hope,"  said  the  count,  smiling,  "that  it  may,  because 
it  ought  to  be  won  by  tried  honour  and  affection.  I  only 
require  to  be  left  in  hope." 

"Well,  I  leave  you  hope,"  said  Lord  Colambre;  "Miss 
Nugent — Miss  Reynolds,  I  should  say,  has  been  in  the 
habit  of  considering  a  union  with  me  as  impossible;  my 
mother  early  instilled  this  idea  into  her  mind.  Miss 
Nugent  thought  that  duty  forbade  her  to  think  of  me;  she 
told  me  so :  I  have  seen  it  in  all  her  conduct  and  manners. 
The  barriers  of  habit,  the  ideas  of  duty,  cannot,  ought  not, 
to  be  thrown  down  or  suddenly  changed  in  a  well-regulated 
female  mind.  And  you,  I  am  sure,  know  enough  of  the 
best  female  hearts,  to  be  aware  that  time " 

"Well,  well,  let  this  dear  good  charmer  take  her  own 
time,  provided  there's  none  given  to  affectation,  or  prudery, 
or  coquetry;  and  from  all  these,  of  course,  she  must  be 
free;  and  of  course  I  must  be  content.     Adieu  an  revoir." 


CHAPTER   XVH. 

AS  Lord  Colambre  was  returning  home,  he  was  over- 
taken by  Sir  Terence  O'Fay. 

Well,  my  lord, ' '  cried  Sir  Terence,  out  of  breath, 
"you  have  led  me  a  pretty  dance  all  over  the  town ;  here's 
a  letter  somewhere  down  in  my  safe  pocket  for  you,  which 

268 


THE  ABSENTEE 

has  cost  me  trouble  enough.  Phoo!  where  is  it  now? — it's 
from  Miss  Nugent,"  said  he,  holding  up  the  letter.  The 
direction  to  Grosvenor  Square,  London,  had  been  scratched 
out ;  and  it  had  been  re-directed  by  Sir  Terence  to  the 
Lord  Viscount  Colambre,  at  Sir  James  Brooke's,  Bart., 
Brookwood,  Huntingdonshire,  or  elsewhere,  with  speed. 
"But  the  more  haste  the  worse  speed ;  for  away  it  went  to 
Brookwood,  Huntingdonshire,  where  I  knew,  if  anywhere, 
you  was  to  be  found ;  but,  as  fate  and  the  post  would  have 
it,  there  the  letter  went  coursing  after  you,  while  you  were 
running  round,  and  back  and  forwards,  and  everywhere,  I 
understand,  to  Toddrington  and  Wrestham,  and  where 
not,  through  all  them  English  places,  where  there's  no 
cross-post ;  so  I  took  it  for  granted  that  it  found  its  way 
to  the  dead-letter  ofifice,  or  was  sticking  up  across  a  pane 
in  the  d — d  postmaster's  window  at  Huntingdon,  for  the 
whole  town  to  see,  and  it  a  love-letter,  and  some  puppy  to 
claim  it,  under  false  pretence ;  and  you  all  the  time  with- 
out it,  and  it  might  breed  a  coolness  betwixt  you  and  Miss 
Nugent." 

"But,  my  dear  Sir  Terence,  give  me  the  letter  now  you 
have  me." 

"Oh,  my  dear  lord,  if  you  knew  what  a  race  I  have  had, 
missing  you  here  by  five  minutes,  and  there  by  five  seconds 
— but  I  have  you  at  last,  and  you  have  it — and  I'm  paid 
this  minute  for  all  I  liquidated  of  my  substance,  by  the 
pleasure  I  have  in  seeing  you  crack  the  seal  and  read  it. 
But  take  care  you  don't  tumble  over  the  orange  woman — 
orange  barrows  are  a  great  nuisance,  when  one's  studying 
a  letter  in  the  streets  of  London  or  the  metropolis.  But 
never  heed ;  stick  to  my  arm,  and  I  '11  guide  you,  like  a 
blind  man,  safe  through  the  thick  of  them." 

Miss  Nugent's  letter,  which  Lord  Colambre  read  in  spite 
of  the  jostling  of  passengers,  and  the  incessant  talking  of 
Sir  Terence,  was  as  follows : 

Let  me  not  be  the  cause  of  banishing  you  from  your  home 
and  your  country,  where  you  would  do  so  much  good,  and 
make   so   many  happy.     Let    me    not  be    the    cause    of   your 

269 


THE  ABSENTEE 

breaking  your  promise  to  your  mother;  of  your  disappointing 
my  dear  aunt,  so  cruelly,  who  has  complied  with  all  our  wishes, 
and  who  sacrifices,  to  oblige  us,  her  favourite  tastes.  How 
could  she  ever  be  happy  in  Ireland — how  could  Clonbrony 
Castle  be  a  home  to  her,  without  her  son?  If  you  take  away  all 
she  had  of  amusement  zxiA  pleasure^  as  it  is  called,  are  not  you 
bound  to  give  her,  in  their  stead,  that  domestic  happiness, 
which  she  can  enjoy  only  with  you,  and  by  your  means  ?  If,  in- 
stead of  living  with  her,  you  go  into  the  army,  she  will  be  in 
daily,  nightly  anxiety  and  alarm  about  you ;  and  her  son  will, 
instead  of  being  a  comfort,  be  a  source  of  torment  to  her. 

I  will  hope  that  you  will  do  now,  as  you  have  always  hitherto 
done,  on  every  occasion  where  I  have  seen  you  act,  what  is 
right,  and  just,  and  kind.  Come  here  on  the  day  you  promised 
my  aunt  you  would;  before  that  time  I  shall  be  in  Cambridge- 
shire, with  my  friend  Lady  Berryl;  she  is  so  good  as  to  come  to 
Buxton  for  me — I  shall  remain  with  her,  instead  of  returning  to 

Ireland.     I  have  explained  my  reasons  to  my  dear  aunt 

Could  I  have  any  concealment  from  her,  to  whom,  from  my 
earliest  childhood,  I  owe  everything  that  kindness  and  affection 
could  give  ?  She  is  satisfied — she  consents  to  my  living  hence- 
forward with  Lady  Berryl.  Let  me  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing, 
by  your  conduct,  that  you  approve  of  mine. — Your  affectionate 
cousin  and  friend,  Grace  Nugent. 

This  letter,  as  may  be  imagined  by  those  w^ho,  like  him, 
are  capable  of  feeling  honourable  and  generous  conduct, 
gave  our  hero  exquisite  pleasure.  Poor,  good-natured  Sir 
Terence  O'Fay  enjoyed  his  lordship's  delight;  and  forgot 
himself  so  completely,  that  he  never  even  inquired  whether 
Lord  Colambre  had  thought  of  an  affair  on  which  he  had 
spoken  to  him  some  time  before,  and  which  materially  con- 
cerned Sir  Terence's  interest.  The  next  morning,  when 
the  carriage  was  at  the  door,  and  Sir  Terence  was  just  tak- 
ing leave  of  his  friend  Lord  Clonbrony,  and  actually  in 
tears,  wishing  them  all  manner  of  happiness,  though  he 
said  there  was  none  left  now  in  London,  or  the  wide  world, 
even,  for  him— Lord  Colambre  went  up  to  him,  and  said, 
"Sir  Terence,  you  have  never  inquired  whether  I  have 
done  your  business? " 

270 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"Oh,  my  dear,  I'm  not  thinking  of  that  now — time 
enough  by  the  post  —  I  can  writ^  after  you ;  but  my 
thoughts  won't  turn  for  me  to  business  now — no  matter." 

"Your  business  is  done,"  replied  Lord  Colambre. 

"Then  I  wonder  how  you  could  think  of  it,  with  all  you 
had  upon  your  mind  and  heart.  When  anything's  upon 
my  heart,  good  morning  to  my  head,  it's  not  worth  a 
lemon.  Good-bye  to  you,  and  thank  you  kindly,  and  all 
happiness  attend  you." 

"Good-bye  to  you.  Sir  Terence  O'Fay,"  said  Lord 
Clonbrony;  "and,  since  it's  so  ordered,  I  must  live  with- 
out you." 

"Oh!  you'll  live  better  without  me,  my  lord;  I  am  not 
a  good  liver,  I  know,  nor  the  best  of  all  companions  for  a 
nobleman,  young  or  old;  and  now  you'll  be  rich,  and  not 
put  to  your  shifts  and  your  wits,  what  would  I  have  to  do 
for  you? — Sir  Terence  O'Fay,  you  know,  was  only  the  poor 
nobleman  s  friend,  and  you'll  never  want  to  call  upon  him 
again,  thanks  to  your  jewel,  your  Pitt's-di'mond  of  a  son 
there.  So  we  part  here,  and  depend  upon  it  you're  better 
without  me — that's  all  my  comfort,  or  my  heart  would 
break.  The  carriage  is  waiting  this  long  time,  and  this 
young  lover's  itching  to  be  off.  God  bless  you  both! — 
that's  my  last  word." 

They  called  in  Red  Lion  Square,  punctual  to  the  mo- 
ment, on  old  Mr.  Reynolds,  but  his  window-shutters  were 
shut ;  he  had  been  seized  in  the  night  with  a  violent  fit  of 
the  gout,  which,  as  he  said,  held  him  fast  by  the  leg.  "But 
here,"  said  he,  giving  Lord  Colambre  a  letter,  "here's  what 
will  do  your  business  without  me.  Take  this  written 
acknowledgment  I  have  penned  for  you,  and  give  my 
grand-daughter  her  father's  letter  to  read — it  would  touch 
a  heart  of  stone — touched  mine — wish  I  could  drag  the 
mother  back  out  of  her  grave,  to  do  her  justice — all  one 
now.  You  see  at  last  I'm  not  a  suspicious  rascal,  how- 
ever, for  I  don't  suspect  you  of  palming  a  false  grand- 
daughter upon  me." 

"Will  you,"  said  Lord  Colambre,  "give  your  grand- 
daughter leave  to  come  up  to  town  to  you,  sir?    You 

271 


THE  ABSENTEE 

would  satisfy  yourself,  at  least,  as  to  what  resemblance  she 
may  bear  to  her  father ;  Miss  Reynolds  will  come  instantly, 
and  she  will  nurse  you." 

"No,  no;  I  won't  have  her  come.     If  she  comes,  I  won't 

see  her — shan't  begin  by  nursing  me not  selfish.     As 

soon  as  I  get  rid  of  this  gout,  I  shall  be  my  own  man,  and 
young  again,  and  I'll  soon  be  after  you  across  the  sea,  that 
shan't  stop  me;  I'll  come  to — what's  the  name  of  your 
place  in  Ireland? — and  see  what  likeness  I  can  find  to 
her  poor  father  in  this  grand-daughter  of  mine,  that  you 
puffed  so  finely  yesterday.  And  let  me  see  whether  she 
will  wheedle  me  as  finely  as  Mrs.  Petito  would.  Don't  get 
ready  your  marriage  settlements,  do  you  hear,  till  you  have 
seen  my  will,  which  I  shall  sign  at — what's  the  name  of 
your  place?  Write  it  down  there;  there's  pen  and  ink; 
and  leave  me,  for  the  twinge  is  coming,  and  I  shall  roar." 

"Will  you  permit  me,  sir,  to  leave  my  own  servant  with 
you  to  take  care  of  you?  I  can  answer  for  his  attention 
and  fidelity." 

"Let  me  see  his  face,  and  I'll  tell  you."  Lord  Colam- 
bre's  servant  was  summoned. 

"Yes,  I  like  his  face.     God  bless  you ! — Leave  me." 

Lord  Colambre  gave  his  servant  a  charge  to  bear  with 
Mr.  Reynolds's  rough  manner  and  temper,  and  to  pay  the 
poor  old  gentleman  every  possible  attention.  Then  our 
hero  proceeded  with  his  father  on  his  journey,  and  on  this 
journey  nothing  happened  worthy  of  note.  On  his  first 
perusal  of  the  letter  from  Grace,  Lord  Colambre  had  feared 
that  she  would  have  left  Buxton  with  Lady  Berryl  before 
he  could  reach  it ;  but,  upon  recollection,  he  hoped  that 
the  few  lines  he  had  written,  addressed  to  his  mother  and 
Miss  Nugent,  with  the  assurance  that  he  should  be  with 
them  on  Wednesday,  would  be  sufficient  to  show  her  that 
some  great  change  had  happened,  and  consequently  suffi- 
cient to  prevent  her  from  quitting  her  aunt,  till  she  could 
know  whether  such  a  separation  would  be  necessary.  He 
argued  wisely,  more  wisely  than  Grace  had  reasoned ;  for, 
notwithstanding  this  note,  she  would  have  left  Buxton  be- 
fore his  arrival,  but  for  Lady  Berryl's  strength  of  mind, 

272 


THE  ABSENTEE 

and  positive  determination  not  to  set  out  with  her  till  Lord 
Colambre  should  arrive  to  explain.  In  the  interval,  poor 
Grace  was,  indeed,  in  an  anxious  state  of  suspense;  and 
her  uncertainty,  whether  she  was  doing  right  or  wrong,  by- 
staying  to  see  Lord  Colambre,  tormented  her  most. 

"My  dear,  you  cannot  help  yourself;  be  quiet,"  said 
Lady  Berryl;  "I  will  take  the  whole  upon  my  conscience; 
and  I  hope  my  conscience  may  never  have  anything  worse 
to  answer  for." 

Grace  was  the  first  person  who,  from  her  window,  saw 
Lord  Colambre,  the  instant  the  carriage  drove  to  the  door. 
She  ran  to  her  friend  Lady  Berryl's  apartment — 

"He  is  come! — Now,  take  me  away!  " 

"Not  yet,  my  sweet  friend!  Lie  down  upon  this  sofa, 
if  you  please;  and  keep  yourself  tranquil,  whilst  I  go  and 
see  what  you  ought  to  do ;  and  depend  upon  me  for  a  true 
friend,  in  whose  mind,  as  in  your  own,  duty  is  the  first 
object." 

"I  depend  on  you  entirely,"  said  Grace,  sinking  down 
on  the  sofa;  "and  you  see  I  obey  you!  " 

"Many  thanks  to  you  for  lying  down,  when  you  can't 
stand." 

Lady  Berryl  went  to  Lady  Clonbrony's  apartment;  she 
was  met  by  Sir  Arthur. 

"Come,  my  love!  come  quick!  —  Lord  Colambre  is 
arrived." 

"I  know  it;  and  does  he  go  to  Ireland?  Speak  in- 
stantly, that  I  may  tell  Grace  Nugent." 

"You  can  tell  her  nothing  yet,  my  love;  for  we  know 
nothing.  Lord  Colambre  will  not  say  a  word  till  you 
come;  but  I  know,  by  his  countenance,  that  he  has  good 
and  extraordinary  news." 

They  passed  rapidly  along  the  passage  to  Lady  Clon- 
brony's room. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  dear  Lady  Berryl,  come!  or  I  shall  die 
with  impatience,"  cried  Lady  Clonbrony,  in  a  voice  and 
manner  between  laughing  and  crying.  "There,  now  you 
have  congratulated,  are  very  happy,  and  very  glad,  and 
all  that — now,  for  mercy's  sake,  sit  down.  Lord  Clonbrony! 

273 


THE  ABSENTEE 

for  Heaven's  sake,  sit  down — beside  me  here — or  anywhere ! 
Now,  Colambre,  begin;  and  tell  us  all  at  once!  " 

But  as  nothing  is  so  tedious  as  a  twice-told  tale,  Lord 
Colambre's  narrative  need  not  here  be  repeated.  He  began 
with  Count  O'Halloran's  visit,  immediately  after  Lady 
Clonbrony  had  left  London  ;  and  went  through  the  history 
of  the  discovery  that  Captain  Reynolds  was  the  husband 
of  Miss  St.  Omar,  and  the  father  of  Grace;  the  dying 
acknowledgment  of  his  marriage ;  the  packet  delivered  by 
Count  O'Halloran  to  the  careless  ambassador — how  re- 
covered, by  the  assistance  of  his  executor.  Sir  James 
Brooke;  the  travels  from  Wrestham  to  Toddrington,  and 
thence  to  Red  Lion  Square;  the  interview  with  old  Rey- 
nolds, and  its  final  result ;  all  was  related  as  succinctly  as 
the  impatient  curiosity  of  Lord  Colambre's  auditors  could 
desire. 

"Oh,  wonder  upon  wonder!  and  joy  upon  joy!"  cried 
Lady  Clonbrony.  "So  my  darling  Grace  is  as  legitimate 
as  I  am,  and  an  heiress  after  all.  Where  is  she?  where  is 
she?  In  your  room,  Lady  Berry  1? — Oh,  Colambre!  why 
wouldn't  you  let  her  be  by? — Lady  Berryl,  do  you  know, 
he  would  not  let  me  send  for  her,  though  she  was  the  per- 
son of  all  others  most  concerned!  " 

"For  that  very  reason,  ma'am  ;  and  that  Lord  Colambre 
was  quite  right,  I  am  sure  you  must  be  sensible,  when  you 
recollect,  that  Grace  has  no  idea  that  she  is  not  the  daughter 
of  Mr.  Nugent;  she  has  no  suspicion  that  the  breath  of 
blame  ever  lighted  upon  her  mother.  This  part  of  the 
story  cannot  be  announced  to  her  with  too  much  caution ; 
and,  indeed,  her  mind  has  been  so  much  harassed  and  agi- 
tated, and  she  is  at  present  so  far  from  strong,  that  great 
delicacy " 

"True!  very  true,  Lady  Berryl,"  interrupted  Lady 
Clonbrony;  "and  LU  be  as  delicate  as  you  please  about  it 
afterwards ;  but,  in  the  first  and  foremost  place,  I  must  tell 
her  the  best  part  of  the  story  —  that  she's  an  heiress, 
madam,  never  killed  anybody!"  So,  darting  through  all 
opposition.  Lady  Clonbrony  made  her  way  into  the  room 
where  Grace  was  lying — "Yes,  get  up!  get  up!  my  own 

274 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Grace,  and  be  surprised  —  well  you  may!  —  you  are  an 
heiress,  after  all." 

"Am  I,  my  dear  aunt? "  said  Grace. 

"True,  as  I'm  Lady  Clonbrony — and  a  very  great  heiress 
— and  no  more  Colambre's  cousin  than  Lady  Berryl  here. 
So  now  begin  and  love  him  as  fast  as  you  please — I  give 
my  consent — and  here  he  is." 

Lady  Clonbrony  turned  to  her  son,  who  just  appeared 
at  the  door. 

"Oh,  mother!  what  have  you  done?" 

"What  have  I  done?"  cried  Lady  Clonbrony,  following 
her  son's  eyes: — "Lord  bless  me! — Grace  fainted  dead — 
Lady  Berryl?  Oh,  what  have  I  done?  My  dear  Lady 
Berryl,  what  shall  we  do?  " 

"There!  her  colour's  coming  again,"  said  Lord  Clon- 
brony; "come  away,  my  dear  Lady  Clonbrony,  for  the 
present,  and  so  will  I — though  I  long  to  talk  to  the  darling 
girl  myself;  but  she  is  not  equal  to  it  yet." 

When  Grace  came  to  herself,  she  first  saw  Lady  Berryl 
leaning  over  her,  and,  raising  herself  a  little,  she  said — 

"What  has  happened? — I  don't  know  yet — I  don't  know 
whether  I  am  happy  or  not." 

Then    seeing   Lord    Colambre,   she   sat    quite    upright. 

"You  received  my  letter,  cousin,  I  hope? — Do  you  go 
to  Ireland  with  my  aunt?  " 

"Yes;  and  with  you,  I  hope,  my  beloved  friend,"  said 
Colambre;  "you  once  assured  me  that  I  had  such  a  share 
of  your  esteem  and  affection,  that  the  idea  of  my  accom- 
panying you  to  Ireland  was  not  disagreeable  to  you ;  you 
flattered  me  that  I  formed  part  of  your  agreeable  associa- 
tions with  home." 

"Yes — sit  down  by  me,  won't  you,  my  dear  Lady 
Berryl — but  then  I  considered  you  as  my  cousin,  Lord 
Colambre,  and  I  thought  you  felt  the  same  towards  me; 
but  now " 

"But  now,  my  charming  Grace,"  said  Lord  Colambre, 
kneeling  beside  her,  and  taking  her  hand,  "no  invincible 
obstacle  opposes  my  passion — no  invi)icible  obstacle,  did 
I  say?  let  me  hope  that  I  may  say  no  obstacle,  but  what 

275 


THE  ABSENTEE 

depends  on  the  change  in  the  nature  of  your  sentiments. 
You  heard  my  mother's  consent;  you  saw  her  joy." 

"I  scarcely  knew  what  I  heard  or  saw,"  said  Grace, 
blushing  deeply,  "or  what  I  now  see  and  hear;  but  of  this 
I  feel  secure,  before  I  comprehend  the  mystery,  before  you 
explain  to  me  the  causes  of  your — change  of  conduct,  that 
you  have  never  been  actuated  by  caprice,  but  governed  by 
wise  and  honourable  motives.  As  to  my  going  to  Ireland, 
or  remaining  with  Lady  Berryl,  she  has  heard  all  the  cir- 
cumstances— she  is  my  friend  and  yours — a  better  friend 
cannot  be ;  to  her  I  appeal — she  will  decide  for  me  what  I 
ought  to  do ;  she  promised  to  take  me  from  hence  instantly, 
if  I  ought  to  go. 

"I  did;  and  I  would  do  so  without  hesitation,  if  any 
duty  or  any  prudence  required  it.  But,  after  having  heard 
all  the  circumstances,  I  can  only  tell  you  that  I  willingly 
resign  the  pleasure  of  your  company." 

"But  tell  her,  my  dear  Lady  Berryl,"  said  Lord  Co- 
lambre,  "excellent  friend  as  you  are — explain  to  her  you 
can,  better  than  any  of  us,  all  that  is  to  be  known ;  let  her 
know  my  whole  conduct,  and  then  let  her  decide  for  her- 
self, and  I  shall  submit  to  her  decision.  It  is  difficult,  my 
dear  Grace,  to  restrain  the  expression  of  love,  of  passion, 
such  as  I  feel ;  but  I  have  some  power  over  myself — you 
know  it — and  this  I  can  promise  you,  that  your  affections 
shall  be  free  as  air — that  no  wishes  of  friends,  no  interfer- 
ence, nothing  but  your  own  unbiassed  choice  will  I  allow,  if 
my  life  depended  upon  it,  to  operate  in  my  favour.  Be  as- 
sured, my  dearest  Grace,"  added  he,  smiling  as  he  retired, 
"you  shall  have  time  to  know  whether  you  are  happy  or 
not." 

The  moment  he  had  left  the  room,  she  threw  herself 
into  the  arms  of  her  friend,  and  her  heart,  oppressed  with 
various  feelings,  was  relieved  by  tears — a  species  of  relief 
to  which  she  was  not  habituated. 

"I  am  happy,"  said  she;  "but  what  was  the  invincible 
obstacle? — what  was  the  meaning  of  my  aunt's  words? — 
and  what  was  the  cause  of  her  joy?  Explain  all  this  to 
me,  my  dear  friend;  for  I  am  still  as  if  I  were  in  a  dream." 

276 


w- 


'^^^"^^^ 


l^^^l.-  '^>'  ^-^^ 


'"Ikit  now,  my  charmino-  Grace."  said  Lord  Colambre, 
kneeling  beside  her.' 


THE  ABSENTEE 

With  all  the  delicacy  which  Lady  Clonbrony  deemed 
superfluous  Lady  Berryl  explained.  Nothing  could  sur- 
pass the  astonishment  of  Grace,  on  first  learning  that  Mr. 
Nugent  was  not  her  father.  When  she  was  told  of  the 
stigma  that  had  been  cast  on  her  birth;  the  suspicions, 
the  disgrace,  to  which  her  mother  had  been  subjected  for 
so  many  years — that  mother,  whom  she  had  so  loved  and 
respected  ;  who  had,  with  such  care,  instilled  into  the  mind 
of  her  daughter  the  principles  of  virtue  and  religion;  that 
mother  whom  Grace  had  always  seen  the  example  of  every 
virtue  she  taught ;  on  whom  her  daughter  never  suspected 
that  the  touch  of  blame,  the  breath  of  scandal,  could  rest 
— Grace  could  express  her  sensations  only  by  repeating,  in 
tones  of  astonishment,  pathos,  indignation — "My  mother! 
— my  mother! — my  mother!  " 

For  some  time  she  was  incapable  of  attending  to  any 
other  idea,  or  of  feeling  any  other  sensations.  When  her 
mind  was  able  to  admit  the  thought,  her  friend  soothed 
her,  by  recalling  the  expressions  of  Lord  Colambre's  love 
— the  struggle  by  which  he  had  been  agitated,  when  he 
fancied  a  union  with  her  opposed  by  an  invincible 
obstacle. 

Grace  sighed,  and  acknowledged  that,  in  prudence,  it 
ought  to  have  been  an  invincible  obstacle — she  admired  the 
firmness  of  his  decision,  the  honour  with  which  he  had 
acted  towards  her.  One  moment  she  exclaimed,  "Then, 
if  I  had  been  the  daughter  of  a  mother  who  had  conducted 
herself  ill,  he  never  would  have  trusted  me!  " 

The  next  moment  she  recollected,  with  pleasure,  the  joy 
she  had  just  seen  in  his  eyes — the  affection,  the  passion, 
that  spoke  in  every  word  and  look ;  then  dwelt  upon  the 
sober  certainty,  that  all  obstacles  were  removed. 

"And  no  duty  opposes  my  loving  him!  And  my  aunt 
wishes  it !  my  kind  aunt !  And  I  may  think  of  him. — You, 
my  best  friend,  would  not  assure  me  of  this  if  you  were 
not  certain  of  the  truth. — Oh,  how  can  I  thank  you  for  all 
your  kindness,  and  for  that  best  of  all  kindness,  sympathy. 
You  see,  your  calmness,  your  strength  of  mind  supports 
and  tranquillises  me.     I  would  rather  have  heard  all  I  have 

277 


THE  ABSENTEE 

just  learnt  from  you  than  from  any  other  person  living.  I 
could  not  have  borne  it  from  any  one  else.  No  one  else 
knows  my  mind  so  perfectly — yet  my  aunt  is  very  good, — 
and  my  dear  uncle!  should  not  I  go  to  him? — But  he  is 
not  my  uncle,  she  is  not  my  aunt.  I  cannot  bring  myself 
to  think  that  they  are  not  my  relations,  and  that  I  am  no- 
thing to  them." 

"You  may  be  everything  to  them,  my  dear  Grace,"  said 
Lady  Berryl;  "whenever  you  please,  you  may  be  their 
daughter." 

Grace  blushed,  and  smiled,  and  sighed,  and  was  con- 
soled. But  then  she  recollected  her  new  relation  Mr. 
Reynolds,  her  grandfather,  whom  she  had  never  seen,  who 
had  for  years  disowned  her — treated  her  mother  with  in- 
justice. She  could  scarcely  think  of  him  with  complaisancy ; 
yet,  when  his  age,  his  sufferings,  his  desolate  state,  were 
represented,  she  pitied  him ;  and,  faithful  to  her  strong 
sense  of  duty,  would  have  gone  instantly  to  offer  him 
every  assistance  and  attention  in  her  power.  Lady  Berryl 
assured  her  that  Mr.  Reynolds  had  positively  forbidden 
her  going  to  him ;  and  that  he  had  assured  Lord  Colambre 
he  would  not  see  her  if  she  went  to  him.  After  such  rapid 
and  varied  emotions,  poor  Grace  desired  repose,  and  her 
friend  took  care  that  it  should  be  secured  to  her  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day. 

In  the  meantime.  Lord  Clonbrony  had  kindly  and  ju- 
diciously employed  his  lady  in  a  discussion  about  certain 
velvet  furniture,  which  Grace  had  painted  for  the  drawing- 
room  at  Clonbrony  Castle. 

In  Lady  Clonbrony's  mind,  as  in  some  bad  paintings, 
there  was  no  keeping ;  all  objects,  great  and  small,  were 
upon  the  same  level. 

The  moment  her  son  entered  the  room,  her  ladyship  ex- 
claimed— 

"Everything  pleasant  at  once!  Here's  your  father  tells 
me,  Grace's  velvet  furniture's  all  packed ;  really,  Soho's 
the  best  man  in  the  world  of  his  kind,  and  the  cleverest — 
and  so,  after  all,  my  dear  Colambre,  as  I  always  hoped 
and  prophesied,  at  last  you  will  marry  an  heiress." 

278 


THE  ABSENTEE 

"And  Terry,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony,  "will  win  his  wager 
from  Mordicai." 

"Terry!"  repeated  Lady  Clonbrony,  "that  odious 
Terry ! — I  hope,  my  lord,  that  he  is  not  to  be  one  of  my 
comforts  in  Ireland." 

"No,  my  dear  mother;  he  is  much  better  provided  for 
than  we  coyld  have  expected.  One  of  my  father's  first 
objects  was  to  prevent  him  from  being  any  encumbrance 
to  you.  We  consulted  him  as  to  the  means  of  making  him 
happy;  and  the  knight  acknowledged  that  he  had  long 
been  casting  a  sheep's  eye  at  a  little  snug  place,  that  will 
soon  be  open,  in  his  native  country — the  chair  of  assistant 
barrister  at  the  sessions.  'Assistant  barrister!'  said  my 
father;  'but,  my  dear  Terry,  you  have  all  your  life  been 
evading  the  laws,  and  very  frequently  breaking  the  peace ; 
do  you  think  this  has  qualified  you  peculiarly  for  being  a 
guardian  of  the  laws?'  Sir  Terence  replied,  'Yes,  sure; 
set  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief  is  no  bad  maxim.  And  did  not 
Mr.  Colquhoun,  the  Scotchman,  get  himself  made  a  great 
justice,  by  his  making  all  the  world  as  wise  as  himself, 
about  thieves  of  all  sorts,  by  land  and  by  water,  and  in  the 
air  too,  where  he  detected  the  mud-larks? — And  is  not 
Barrington  chief-justice  of  Botany  Bay?' 

"My  father  now  began  to  be  seriously  alarmed,  lest  Sir 
Terence  should  insist  upon  his  using  his  interest  to  make 
him  an  assistant  barrister.  He  was  not  aware  that  five 
years'  practice  at  the  bar  was  a  necessary  accomplishment 
for  this  office;  when,  fortunately  for  all  parties,  my  good 
friend.  Count  O'Halloran,  helped  us  out  of  the  difficulty, 
by  starting  an  idea  full  of  practical  justice.  A  literary 
friend  of  the  count's  had  been  for  some  time  promised  a 
lucrative  situation  under  Government ;  but,  unfortunately, 
he  was  a  man  of  so  much  merit  and  ability,  that  they  could 
not  find  employment  for  him  at  home,  and  they  gave  him 
a  commission,  I  should  rather  say  a  contract,  abroad,  for 
supplying  the  army  with  Hungarian  horses.  Now  the 
gentleman  had  not  the  slightest  skill  in  horse-flesh ;  and, 
as  Sir  Terence  is  a  complete  jockey,  the  count  observed 
that  he  would  be  the  best  possible  deputy  for  his  literary 

279 


THE  ABSENTEE 

friend.  We  warranted  him  to  be  a  thoroughgoing  friend; 
and  I  do  think  the  coalition  will  be  well  for  both  parties. 
The  count  has  settled  it  all,  and  I  left  Sir  Terence  com- 
fortably provided  for,  out  of  your  way,  my  dear  mother, 
and  as  happy  as  he  could  be,  when  parting  from  my 
father." 

Lord  Colambre  was  assiduous  in  engaging  his  mother's 
attention  upon  any  subject  which  could  for  the  present 
draw  her  thoughts  away  from  her  young  friend ;  but,  at 
every  pause  in  the  conversation,  her  ladyship  repeated, 
"So  Grace  is  an  heiress,  after  all — so,  after  all,  they  know 
they  are  not  cousins !  Well !  I  prefer  Grace,  a  thousand 
times  over,  to  any  other  heiress  in  England.  No  obstacle, 
no  objection.  They  have  my  consent.  I  always  prophe- 
sied Colambre  would  marry  an  heiress ;  but  why  not  marry 
directly? " 

Her  ardour  and  impatience  to  hurry  things  forward 
seemed  now  likely  to  retard  the  accomplishment  of  her 
own  wishes ;  and  Lord  Clonbrony,  who  understood  rather 
more  of  the  passion  of  love  than  his  lady  ever  had  felt  or 
understood,  saw  the  agony  into  which  she  threw  her  son, 
and  felt  for  his  darling  Grace.  With  a  degree  of  delicacy 
and  address  of  which  few  would  have  supposed  Lord  Clon- 
brony capable,  his  lordship  co-operated  with  his  son  in  en- 
deavours to  keep  Lady  Clonbrony  quiet,  and  to  suppress 
the  hourly  thanksgivings  of  Grace's  turning  out  an  heiress. 
On  one  point,  however,  she  vowed  she  would  not  be  over- 
ruled— she  would  have;  a  splendid  wedding  at  Clonbrony 
Castle,  such  as  should  become  an  heir  and  heiress;  and  the 
wedding,  she  hoped,  would  be  immediately  on  their  return 
to  Ireland;  she  should  announce  the  thing  to  her  friends 
directly  on  her  arrival  at  Clonbrony  Castle. 

"My  dear,"  said  Lord  Clonbrony,  "we  must  wait,  in 
the  first  place,  the  pleasure  of  old  Mr.  Reynolds's  fit  of 
the  gout." 

"Why,  that's  true,  because  of  his  will,"  said  her  lady- 
ship; "but  a  will's  soon  made,  is  not  it?  That  can't  be 
much  delay." 

"And  then  there  must  be  settlements,"  said  Lord  Clon- 

280 


THE  ABSENTEE 

brony  ;  "they  take  time.  Lovers,  like  all  the  rest  of  man- 
kind, must  submit  to  the  law's  delay.  In  the  meantime, 
my  dear,  as  these  Buxton  baths  agree  with  you  so  well, 
and  as  Grace  does  not  seem  to  be  over  and  above  strong 
for  travelling  a  long  journey,  and  as  there  are  many  curious 
and  beautiful  scenes  of  nature  here  in  Derbyshire — Mat- 
lock, and  the  wonders  of  the  Peak,  and  so  on — which  the 
young  people  would  be  glad  to  see  together,  and  may  not 
have  another  opportunity  soon — why  not  rest  ourselves  a 
little?  For  another  reason,  too,"  continued  his  lordship, 
bringing  together  as  many  arguments  as  he  could — for  he 
had  often  found,  that  though  Lady  Clonbrony  was  a  match 
for  any  single  argument,  her  understanding  could  be  easily 
overpowered  by  a  number,  of  whatever  sort — "besides,  my 
dear,  here's  Sir  Arthur  and  Lady  Berryl  come  to  Buxton 
on  purpose  to  meet  us;  and  we  owe  them  some  compli- 
ment, and  something  more  than  compliment,  I  think;  so  I 
don't  see  why  we  should  be  in  a  hurry  to  leave  them,  or 
quit  Buxton — a  few  weeks  sooner  or  later  can't  signify — 
and  Clonbrony  Castle  will  be  getting  all  the  while  into  bet- 
ter order  for  us.  Burke  is  gone  down  there;  and  if  we 
stay  here  quietly,  there  will  be  time  for  the  velvet  furniture 
to  get  there  before  us,  and  to  be  unpacked,  and  up  in  the 
drawing-room." 

"That's  true,  my  lord,"  said  Lady  Clonbrony;  "and 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  reason  in  all  you  say — so  I  second 
that  motion,  as  Colambre,  I  see,  subscribes  to  it." 

They  stayed  some  time  in  Derbyshire,  and  every  day 
Lord  Clonbrony  proposed  some  pleasant  excursion,  and 
contrived  that  the  young  people  should  be  left  to  them- 
selves, as  Mrs.  Broadhurst  used  so  strenuously  to  advise; 
the  recollection  of  whose  authoritative  maxims  fortunately 
still  operated  upon  Lady  Clonbrony,  to  the  great  ease  and 
advantage  of  the  lovers. 

Happy  as  a  lover,  a  friend,  a  son ;  happy  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  restored  a  father  to  respectability,  and 
persuaded  a  mother  to  quit  the  feverish  joys  of  fashion  for 
the  pleasures  of  domestic  life;  happy  in  the  hope  of  win- 
ning the  whole  heart  of  the  woman  he  loved,  and  whose 

281 


THE  ABSENTEE 

esteem,  he  knew,  he  possessed  and  deserved ;  happy  in  de- 
veloping every  day,  every  hour,  fresh  charm  in  his  destined 
bride — we  leave  our  hero,  returning  to  his  native  country. 
And  we  leave  him  with  the  reasonable  expectation  that 
he  will  support  through  life  the  promise  of  his  early  char- 
acter; that  his  patriotic  views  will  extend  with  his  power 
to  carry  wishes  into  action ;  that  his  attachment  to  his 
warm-hearted  countrymen  will  still  increase  upon  further 
acquaintance ;  and  that  he  will  long  diffuse  happiness 
through  the  wide  circle,  which  is  peculiarly  subject  to  the 
influence  and  example  of  a  great  resident  Irish  proprietor. 

Letter  from  Larry  to  his  brother,  Pat  Brady,  at  Mr. 
MoRDiCAi's,  coachmaker,  London. 

My  dear  Brother, 

Yours  of  the  i6th,  inclosing  the  five  pound  note  for  my 
father,  came  safe  to  hand  Monday  last;  and  with  his  thanks 
and  blessing  to  you,  he  commends  it  to  you  herewith  inclosed 
back  again,  on  account  of  his  being  in  no  immediate  necessity, 
nor  likelihood  to  want  in  future,  as  you  shall  hear  forthwith; 
but  wants  you  over  with  all  speed,  and  the  note  will  answer  for 
travelling  charges;  for  we  can't  enjoy  the  luck  it  has  pleased 
God  to  give  us  without  yees :  put  the  rest  in  your  pocket,  and 
read  it  when  you've  time. 

Old  Nick's  gone,  and  St.  Dennis  along  with  him,  to  the  place 
he  come  from — praise  be  to  God !  The  ould  lord  has  found  him 
out  in  his  tricks;  and  I  helped  him  to  that,  through  the  young 
lord  that  I  driv,  as  I  informed  you  in  my  last,  when  he  was  a 
Welchman,  which  was  the  best  turn  ever  I  did,  though  I  did  not 
know  it  no  more  than  Adam  that  time.  So  ould  Nick's  turned 
out  of  the  agency  clean  and  clear;  and  the  day  after  it  was 
known,  there  was  surprising  great  joy  through  the  whole  coun- 
try; not  surprising  either,  but  just  what  you  might,  knowing 
him,  rasonably  expect.  He  (that  is,  old  Nick  and  St.  Dennis) 
would  have  been  burnt  that  night — I  mafie,  in  effigy,  through  the 
town  of  Clonbrony,  but  that  the  new  man,  Mr.  Burke,  come 
down  that  day  too  soon  to  stop  it,  and  said,  "  it  was  not  becom- 
ing to  trample  on  the  fallen,"  or  something  that  way,  that  put 
an  end  to  it;  and  though  it  was  a  great  disajipointment  to  many, 
and  to  me  in  particular,  I  could  not  but  like  the  jantleman  the 

282 


THE  ABSENTEE 

better  for  it  anyhow.  They  say,  he  is  a  very  good  jantleman, 
and  as  unlike  old  Nick  or  the  saint  as  can  be;  and  takes  no 
duty  fowl,  nor  glove,  nor  sealing-money;  nor  asks  duty  work 
nor  duty  turf.  Well,  when  I  was  disappointed  of  the  effigy\  I 
comforted  myself  by  making  a  bonfire  of  old  Nick's  big  rick  of 
duty  turf,  which,  by  great  luck,  was  out  in  the  road,  away  from 
all  dwelling-house,  or  thatch,  or  yards,  to  take  fire;  so  no  danger 
in  life  or  objection.  And  such  another  blaze!  I  wished  you  'd 
seed  it — and  all  the  men,  women,  and  children  in  the  town  and 
country,  far  and  near,  gathered  round  it,  shouting  and  dancing 
like  mad! — and  it  was  light  as  day  quite  across  the  bog,  as  far 
as  Bartley  Finnigan's  house.  And  I  heard  after,  they  seen  it 
from  all  parts  of  the  three  counties,  and  they  thought  it  was  St. 
John's  Eve  in  a  mistake — or  couldn't  make  out  what  it  was; 
but  all  took  it  in  good  part,  for  a  good  sign,  and  were  in  great 
joy.  As  for  St.  Dennis  and  ould  Nick,  an  attorney  had  his  foot 
upon  'em,  with  an  habere  a  latitat,  and  three  executions  hang- 
ing over  'em;  and  there's  the  end  of  rogues!  and  a  great  ex- 
am{)le  in  the  country.  And — no  more  about  it;  for  I  can't  be 
wasting  more  ink  upon  them  that  don't  desarve  it  at  my  hands, 
when  I  want  it  for  them  that  do,  you  shall  see.  So  some  weeks 
past,  and  there  was  great  cleaning  at  Clonbrony  Castle,  and  in 
the  town  of  Clonbrony;  and  the  new  agent's  smart  and  clever; 
and  he  had  the  glaziers,  and  the  painters,  and  the  slaters  up  and 
down  in  the  town  wherever  wanted;  and  you  wouldn't  know  it 
again.  Thinks  I,  this  is  no  bad  sign!  Now,  cock  up  your  ears, 
Pat!  for  the  great  news  is  coming,  and  the  good.  The  master's 
come  home — long  life  to  him! — and  family  come  home  yester- 
day, all  entirely!  The  ould  lord  and  the  young  lord  (ay,  there's 
the  man,  Paddy!),  and  my  lady,  and  Miss  Nugent.  And  I  driv 
Miss  Nugent's  maid,  that  maid  that  was,  and  another;  so  I  had 
the  luck  to  be  in  it  along  wid  'em,  and  see  all,  from  first  to  last. 
And  first,  I  must  tell  you,  my  young  Lord  Colambre  remembered 
and  noticed  me  the  minute  he  lit  at  our  inn,  and  condescended 
to  beckon  at  me  out  of  the  yard  to  him,  and  axed  me — "  Friend 
Larry,"  says  he,  "  did  you  keep  your  promise  ?  " — "  My  oath 
again'  the  whisky,  is  it  ?  "  says  I.  "  My  Lord,  I  surely  did," 
said  I;  which  was  true,  as  all  the  country  knows  I  never  tasted 
a  drop  since.  "  And  I'm  proud  to  see  your  honour,  my  lord, 
as  good  as  your  word  too,  and  back  again  among  us."  So  then 
there  was  a  call  for  the  horses;  and  no  more  at  that  time  passed 

283 


THE  ABSENTEE 

betwix'  my  young  lord  and  me,  but  that  he  pointed  me  out  to 
the  ould  one,  as  I  went  off.  I  noticed  and  thanked  him  for  it  in 
my  heart,  though  I  did  not  know  all  the  good  was  to  come  of  it. 
Well,  no  more  of  myself,  for  the  present. 

Ogh,  it's  I  driv  'em  well;  and  we  all  got  to  the  great  gate  of 
the  park  before  sunset,  and  as  fine  an  evening  as  ever  you  see; 
with  the  sun  shining  on  the  tops  of  the  trees,  as  the  ladies  no- 
ticed; the  leaves  changed,  but  not  dropped,  though  so  late  in 
the  season,  I  believe  "the  leaves  knew  what  they  were  about, 
and  kept  on,  on  purpose  to  welcome  them;  and  the  birds  were 
singing,  and  I  stopped  whistling,  that  they  might  hear  them;  but 
sorrow  bit  could  they  hear  when  they  got  to  the  park  gate,  for 
there  was  such  a  crowd,  and  such  a  shout,  as  you  never  see  — 
and  they  had  the  horses  off  every  carriage  entirely,  and  drew 
'em  home,  with  blessings,  through  the  park.  And,  God  bless 
'em!  when  they  got  out,  they  didn't  go  shut  themselves  up  in 
the  great  drawing-room,  but  went  straight  out  to  the  //rrass,  to 
satisfy  the  eyes  and  hearts  that  followed  them.  My  lady  laning 
on  my  young  lord,  and  Miss  Grace  Nugent  that  was,  the  beauti- 
fullest  angel  that  ever  you  set  eyes  on,  with  the  finest  com- 
plexion and  sweetest  of  smiles,  laning  upon  the  ould  lord's  arm, 
who  had  his  hat  off,  bowing  to  all,  and  noticing  the  old  tenants 
as  he  passed  by  name.  Oh,  there  was  great  gladness  and  tears 
in  the  midst;  for  joy  I  could  scarce  keep  from  myself. 

After  a  turn  or  two  upon  the  //Vrass,  my  Lord  Colambre  quit 
his  mother's  arm  for  a  minute,  and  he  come  to  the  edge  of  the 
slope,  and  looked  down  and  through  all  the  crowd  for  some 
one, 

"  Is  it  the  widow  O'Neill,  my  lord  ?  "  says  I;  "  she's  yonder, 
with  the  spectacles  on  her  nose,  betwixt  her  son  and  daughter, 
as  usual." 

Then  my  lord  beckoned,  and  they  did  not  know  which  of  the 
tree  would  stir;  and  then  he  gave  tree  beckons  with  his  own 
finger,  and  they  all  tree  came  fast  enough  to  the  bottom  of  the 
slope  forenent  my  lord;  and  he  went  down  and  helped  the  widow 
up  (Oh,  he's  the  true  jantleman),  and  brought  'em  all  tree  upon 
the  //rrass,  to  my  lady  and  Miss  Nugent ;  and  I  was  up  close  after, 
that  I  might  hear,  which  wasn't  manners,  but  I  couldn't  help  it. 
So  what  he  said  I  don't  well  know,  for  I  could  not  get  near 
enough,  after  all.  But  I  saw  my  lady  smile  very  kind,  and  take 
the  widow  O'Neill  by  the  hand,  and  then  my  Lord  Colambre 

284 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Produced  Grace  to  Miss  Nugent,  and  there  was  the  word  name- 
sake^ and  something  about  a  check  curtains;  but,  whatever  it 
was,  they  was  all  greatly  pleased;  then  my  Lord  Colambre 
turned  and  looked  for  Brian,  who  had  fell  back,  and  took  him 
with  some  commendation  to  my  lord  his  father.  And  my  lord 
the  master  said,  which  I  didn't  know  till  after,  that  they  should 
have  their  house  and  farm  at  the  ould  rent;  and  at  the  surprise, 
the  widow  dropped  down  dead ;  and  there  was  a  cry  as  for  ten 
herrings.  "  Be  qui'te, "  says  I,  "  she's  only  kilt  for  joy  ";  and 
I  went  and  lift  her  up,  for  her  son  had  no  more  strength  that 
minute  than  the  child  new  born;  and  Grace  trembled  like  a  leaf, 
as  white  as  the  sheet,  but  not  long,  for  the  mother  came  to,  and 
was  as  well  as  ever  when  I  brought  some  water,  which  Miss 
Nugent  handed  to  her  with  her  own  hand. 

"  That  was  always  pretty  and  good,"  said  the  widow,  laying 
her  hand  upon  Miss  Nugent,  "and  kind  and  good  to  me  and 
mine." 

That  minute  there  was  music  from  below.  The  blind  harper, 
O'Neill,  with  his  harp,  that  struck  up  "  Gracey  Nugent." 

And  that  finished,  and  my  Lord  Colambre  smiling,  with  the 
tears  standing  in  his  eyes  too,  and  the  ould  lord  quite  wiping 
his,  I  ran  to  the  tirxz.%%  brink  to  bid  O'Neill  play  it  again;  but 
as  I  run,  I  thought  I  heard  a  voice  call  Larry. 

"  Who  calls  Larry  ?  "  says  I. 

"  My  Lord  Colambre  calls  you,  Larry,"  says  all  at  once;  and 
four  takes  me  by  the  shoulders  and  spins  me  round.  "  There's 
my  young  lord  calling  you,  Larry — run  for  your  life." 

So  I  run  back  for  my  life,  and  walked  respectful,  with  my  hat 
in  my  hand,  when  I  got  near. 

"  Put  on  your  hat,  my  father  desires  it,"  says  my  Lord  Co- 
lambre. The  ould  lord  made  a  sign  to  that  purpose,  but  was 
too  full  to  speak.  "Where's  your  father?"  continues  my 
young  lord. — "  He's  very  ould,  my  lord,"  says  I.  "  I  didn't 
ax  you  how  ould  he  was,"  says  he;  "but  where  is  he?" — 
"  He's  behind  the  crowd  below,  on  account  of  his  infirmities; 
he  couldn't  walk  so  fast  as  the  rest,  my  lord,"  says  I;  "  but  his 
heart  is  with  you,  if  not  his  body."  *T  must  have  his  body  too, 
so  bring  him  bodily  before  us;  and  this  shall  be  your  warrant 
for  so  doing,"  said  my  lord,  joking;  for  he  knows  the  natur  of 
us,  Paddy,  and  how  we  love  a  joke  in  our  hearts,  as  well  as  if 
he  had  lived  all  his  life  in  Ireland;  and  by  the  same  token  will, 

285 


THE  ABSENTEE 

for  that  rason,  do  what  he  pleases  with  us,  and  more  maybe  than 
a  man  twice  as  good,  that  never  would  smile  on  us. 

But  I'm  telling  you  of  my  father.  "  I've  a  warrant  for  you, 
father,"  says  I;  "  and  must  have  you  bodily  before  the  justice, 
and  my  lord  chief-justice."  So  he  changed  colour  a  bit  at  first; 
but  he  saw  me  smile.  "  And  I've  done  no  sin,"  said  he;  "  and, 
Larry,  you  may  lead  me  now,  as  you  led  me  all  my  life." 

And  up  the  slope  he  went  with  me  as  light  as  fifteen;  and, 
when  we  got  up,  my  Lord  Clonbrony  said,  "  I  am  sorry  an  old 
tenant,  and  a  good  old  tenant,  as  I  hear  you  were,  should  have 
been  turned  out  of  your  farm." 

"  Don't  fret,  it's  no  great  matter,  my  lord,"  said  my  father. 
"  I  shall  be  soon  out  of  the  way;  but  if  you  would  be  so  kind  to 
speak  a  word  for  my  boy  here,  and  that  I  could  afford,  while 
the  life  is  in  me,  bring  my  other  boy  back  out  of  banish- 
ment  " 

"  Then,"  says  my  Lord  Clonbrony,  "  I'll  give  you  and  your 
sons  three  lives,  or  thirty-one  years,  from  this  day,  of  your 
former  farm.  Return  to  it  when  you  please."  "  And,"  added 
my  Lord  Colambre,  "  the  flaggers,  I  hope,  will  be  soon 
banished."  Oh,  how  could  I  thank  him — not  a  word  could  I 
proffer — but  I  know  I  clasped  my  two  hands,  and  prayed  for 
him  inwardly.  And  my  father  was  dropping  down  on  his  knees, 
but  the  master  would  not  let  him;  and  obsarved,  that  posture 
should  only  be  for  his  God.  And,  sure  enough,  in  that  pos- 
ture, when  he  was  out  of  sight,  we  did  pray  for  him  that  night, 
and  will  all  our  days. 

But,  before  we  quit  his  presence,  he  called  me  back,  and  bid 
me  write  to  my  brother,  and  bring  you  back,  if  you've  no  ob- 
jections, to  your  own  country. 

So  come,  my  dear  Pat,  and  make  no  delay,  for  joy's  not  joy 
complate  till  you're  in  it — my  father  sends  his  blessing,  and 
Peggy  her  love.  The  family  entirely  is  to  settle  for  good  in 
Ireland,  and  there  was  in  the  castle  yard  last  night  a  bonfire 
made  by  my  lord's  orders  of  the  old  yellow  damask  furniture,  to 
plase  my  lady,  my  lord  says.  And  the  drawing-room,  the  butler 
was  telling  me,  is  new  hung;  and  the  chairs  with  velvet  as  white 
as  snow,  and  shaded  over  with  natural  flowers,  by  Miss  Nugent. 
Oh!  how  I  hope  what  I  guess  will  come  true,  and  I've  rason  to 
believe  it  will,  for  I  dreamt  in  my  bed  last  night  it  did.  But 
keep  yourself  to  yourself — that  Miss  Nugent  (who  is  no  more 

286 


THE  ABSENTEE 

Miss  Nugent,  they  say,  but  Miss  Reynolds,  and  has  a  new-found 
grandfather,  and  is  a  big  heiress,  which  she  did  not  want  in  my 
eyes,  nor  in  my  young  lord's),  I've  a  notion  will  be  sometime, 
and  maybe  sooner  than  is  expected,  my  Lady  Viscountess  Co- 
lambre — so  haste  to  the  wedding.  And  there's  another  thing: 
they  say  the  rich  ould  grandfather's  coming  over; — and  another 
thing,  Pat,  you  would  not  be  out  of  the  fashion — and  you  see 
it's  growing  the  fashion  not  to  be  an  Absentee. — Your  loving 
brother,  Larry  Brady. 

THE  END. 


287 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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